Post Blight Management for Dummies
by Zute
Summary: Lucy, vastly pregnant, is ordered to Amaranthine to become the Warden-Commander. "I'll delegate a lot," she told Zevran. "It'll be a piece of cake."
1. The Vigil's New Keeper

**Notes: **This tale continues from "A Southern Californian in King Cailan's Court", picking up with Lucy going to Amaranthine. Welcome back, and fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

**Introduction**

Around Ferelden three impossibly unlikely children came into the world at very nearly the same time. All three of them would have at least one Grey Warden for a parent. One would be the heir to the throne of Ferelden, one would have the soul of an archdemon, and one would be a perfectly normal child with no particular claim to fame. All three were conceived not long before the archdemon was slain. One of the babies would have a questionable paternity as three different men had plowed the same unexpectedly fertile field.

One child had a mother of unexpected origin. She came to possess the body of a Ferelden noblewoman, Elissa Cousland, by the meddling of an ancient and powerful mage called Flemeth. This woman from earth, Lucy Woodridge, was getting on in years when she was surprised to wake up in the body of the young noblewoman. This strange twist of her fate was compounded when she also found she was in the midst of a terrible Blight in this land where disgusting and vile creatures swarmed from the bowels of the earth to corrupt the lands and kill all life.

Past Blights had taken decades, even centuries, to resolve and all but destroyed the afflicted lands. This Blight was resolved in a mere year, an accomplishment all the more surprising given the political instability of the country when the hereditary ruler, King Cailan, died early on. It was through Lucy's unconventional views and methods that they formed alliances with the Dalish, dwarves, Circle mages, and even Teyrn Loghain, averting a civil war in the midst of the Blight.

The mage, Flemeth, laid the responsibility for resolving this Blight directly on the shoulders of this clueless, middle-aged woman from the planet Earth who now possessed Elissa Cousland. Lucy, thinking herself caught in a dream, or perhaps insane, cheerfully took up the challenge, expecting to wake up one day laced into a straight-jacket in an insane asylum. However, as time passed, she did not wake up from the dream or delusion. Eventually she came to realize she was, truly, exactly where she was - caught in a thirteenth century facsimile of earth, where there were no flush toilets or toilet paper.

Lucy also came to realize she had some unique talents in her new life: She was a mage. Although her magic was similar to the other mages of the land, there were some differences. Lyrium affected her oddly; it made her magic grow in power rather than simply replenish her mana. It also made her magic difficult to control and gave her delusions. This combination of effects was potentially devastating. If she should lose her mind to the lyrium, she could be a devastatingly destructive force. If the Chantry should learn of her strangeness, particularly her reaction to lyrium, she might be judged too dangerous to live.

Fortunately, Lucy had two mentors during the Blight, Morrigan and Wynne. Morrigan was an unabashed apostate who urged Lucy to explore the depths of her power and taught her old and forbidden magic. The other, Wynne, was a Circle-trained mage who coached her in techniques to control and restrain her power. Between the pair, she learned much about magic and a little about healing. A grateful spirit, trapped for centuries in a crystal, taught her how to call upon arcane powers to enhance her fighting and protect herself when she released it from its prison. Other talents had come spontaneously to her, like her ability to Fade-walk, which can only be powered by access to lyrium.

After the Blight was resolved, with Lucy delivering the killing blow to the archdemon and somehow surviving it, she took a sabbatical from the Grey Wardens and lived in Denerim with her lover, Zevran Arainai. There, she worked on inventing some of the modern necessities she most missed; namely toilets.

As the sorrow of losing one of her lovers, Riordan, was beginning to fade, Lucy and Zevran picked up the threads of a new life; looking forward to the birth of her child and making plans for the future.

But it seemed destiny had another plan in store for Lucy. Zevran returned to Antiva when the Crows came to Denerim and threatened Lucy and the baby she carried. He promised her that he would return, if he should survive, but he had to make certain that she would be free of danger from the Crows.

After losing Riordan, losing Zevran nearly broke her spirit. Pregnant and alone, an imposter pretending to be Elissa Cousland, was nearly more than she could bear all by herself. She threw herself into her toilet-making enterprise and hoped that her love would return to her.

Fate, however, was not done messing up her plans.

In her eighth month of pregnancy, the Wardens in Weisshaupt canceled her four year sabbatical mere months after it had begun, and ordered her to take over the arling of Amaranthine, replacing the deceased commander. So it was that she became Arlessa of Amaranthine and Commander of the Grey. It was a burden she did not want, but the Grey Wardens would never let her out of her obligation to them. Elissa Cousland had under gone the Joining ceremony and sworn an oath that Lucy was now obligated to uphold. For the Wardens, it was the taint in her blood that decided the matter. Once tainted, you were a Grey Warden forever.

_**Loghain**_

He took the folded paper off the salver and recognized the toilet-shaped seal as being the one Lucy used. He mentally counted the months and realized their baby was due soon and he felt guilty he hadn't been to see her recently. It had hurt too much to see her living in the Warden compound with that elf... Zevran – she hated it when he called him "that elf" – the lover she wouldn't give up to be with him.

"_Living well is the best revenge," _she had told him once and he had put her philosophy to work. He was seeing the widow of one of his captains who had died in the siege of Denerim. Rumors of the Grey Wardens' sexual prowess abounded and he had a lot of possibilities for dalliances. The rumors were not entirely untrue either. It seemed when he had drunk Avernus' improved Joining formula he had gained a vigor surpassing that of even much younger men. Yet, even with the sometimes annoyingly frequent urgings from his loins, he was discreet. He certainly didn't need to father any more bastards or be forced to wed someone he didn't love.

Zevran had left her a couple months back. Lucy was closed-mouthed about the reasons behind his leaving. She said she expected him to return someday. Her silence on the subject hurt. There had been a time when Lucy had told him everything, when they had worked together closely to unite Ferelden. Now their lives were forking into two different paths.

He had offered to marry her when he learned of her pregnancy, but she would have to give up the... Zevran. She had refused, saying that Zevran was her link to Riordan. Loghain shook his head thinking about their strange affair. Even when she had told him she was sleeping with two other men, at the same time – Loghain snorted with irritation, almost wishing he could have seen what that was all about – he had still slept with her. _It's the taint._ That was his rationalization. It was her, too, a beautiful young woman with the maturity of a woman his own age. She was like a drug. Even now he could visualize her young, supple body laid out before him, the wild abandonment she brought to his bed, the things she had taught him, the emotions she had inspired. _A man my age..._ He snorted again and frowned as he felt himself stir at the thought of her.

He unfolded the parchment and pushed the deliciously erotic thoughts of her out of his head. He cursed softly as he read.

She had left for Amaranthine this morning. Was she insane? She was going to give birth at any time. Travel was always risky, but for her, in her condition, it was mad. The First Warden had ordered her to go and she felt she had no option but to obey. There had been veiled threats that the Chantry might find out about her strange circumstances if she attempted to leave the order. It was strange that the Grey Wardens made no attempt to attempt to press him into service, or Alistair for that matter, but they were both of a much higher station than Lucy.

Loghain crumpled up the paper and threw it in the roaring fire. She had left early this morning on horseback. He swore again thinking how terrible the weather was. She was going to be miserable in this cold, splattering rain. He couldn't go after her today; it was already too late to start out. He would assemble some of the royal guard and follow her tomorrow. Perhaps if they pushed hard enough, they could catch her on the road before... He shook his head, trying to dislodge the notion that something would happen to her and what might be his child.

Strange how much this child mattered to him and how little he cared about the one in the witch's womb. It was a deed done at the prompting of that elf. He'd shown up with a vial of the potion used for the Joining and a plan on how make certain that Lucy wouldn't die killing the archdemon. She never knew he had fucked the witch that night he drank Avernus' potion. He went through the sex and blood magic ritual and conceived a child with Morrigan to save Lucy. He owed it to her after everything she had done, after all she meant to him. Even so, he was determined to make the final blow, just in case the witch's magic didn't work. When Alistair stopped him from killing the archdemon, Lucy had done it. She very nearly did die, even then.

Lucy was never any the wiser about what he had done. She thought she had survived making the killing blow because she was not from this world, but Loghain knew it was because he had accepted the witch's dark bargain and had slept with her. It was a detail Lucy didn't need to know.

He strode out of his rooms and began making plans to leave for Amaranthine before dawn in the morning.

**Zevran**

Having his shoulders dislocated on the rack had been painful, yes, but it was a type of pain he had been trained to bear. This though, knowing that the woman he loved was going to have his child at any moment, perhaps already had, and he couldn't be there with her... this was a pain he didn't know how to tolerate.

Zevran pulled a roll of cloth strips out of his backpack and wound them around the deep cut on his leg. He kept his goal in mind: Kill del capo and everyone protecting him, and take over the Crow cell. That was the only way he could return to Lucy and his bambino. Maybe not of his seed, but it would be his in every way that mattered. Privately he hoped the baby would be Riordan's. He could always make another child with Lucy, but this baby might be their only link to their fallen lover.

He turned to the corpse lying next to him and pulled free the dagger he'd left in his chest. "Sorry, paesano. Nothing personal," Zevran apologized to the corpse, not really feeling sorry at all. His old associate would have killed him on sight, given the chance.

The shadows swallowed Zevran and he limped back to the room he was renting in the slums. He would have to move again soon. It was unwise to stay more than a few days in the same place. He pulled the drapes over the windows and lit a lamp. It was barely enough light but he sat down to write a letter to Lucy.

_Amore, I miss you more than I can describe. I still live. I cannot say more in case this letter is intercepted. I wonder each day if you are well and safe and if our bambino is in your arms yet. I look for your beautiful face each morning when I awaken and each day my heart breaks when I remember we are apart. Be..._

A minute crunch disturbed his thoughts. A boot on gravel. Sloppy. He waded up the letter and threw it into the fireplace. He was foolish to write. It wouldn't serve either of them if the Crows intercepted his letter and were reminded that the best way to get to him was through her and their child. As long as he was in Antiva, on their soil, he prayed they wouldn't try to capture her again. He got ready for the attack. He had so much to live for but better he die here than put her life in danger by staying in Ferelden.

When three of his former colleagues burst through the window, he was ready.

**Anders**

The templars guarding him refused to let him out of his cell when the screaming started.

"Come on, guys, I can help. Just unlock the door. I promise I won't run away."

They ignored him and looked around nervously. Someone, somewhere, was using a tremendous amount of magic. Even Anders could feel the thrill of powerful magic lift the little hairs on his arms. He hadn't ever felt anything like it. Not even that time all the third year apprentices ganged together to carve a mustache on the statue of Andraste in the main hall.

"Guys! You can't just leave me in this cell while everyone around us dies. We could be helping them." It sounded reasonable to Anders but templars tended to be single-minded and they really, really didn't like him.

Biff, not his real name, just the name Anders had given him, drew his weapon and looked at his colleague. "Maker! Did you feel that Ian?"

The other templar shifted from foot to foot nervously. "Yeah, what is it? A darkspawn mage?"

Biff opened his mouth to answer when the door crashed open and a half dozen darkspawn ran into the room. The templars blasted the darkspawn with their magic but barely slowed them down. A hurlock buried its teeth into Biff's neck and he made a weird gurgling sound. A pair of darkspawn was hacking at Ian. The templars fell in short order and the darkspawn ran on, ignoring Anders locked in the cell.

"Huh!" Anders said, puzzled by the darkspawn. "Yeah, that's right. I'd keep running if I were you!" he called after the darkspawn. If he didn't know any better, it almost seemed like the monsters were running _from _something. As if in answer of what they might be running from, he felt another surge of that tremendous magical energy. Whatever was the source of that was drawing nearer. He needed to get out of this damned cell now!

Biff had fallen conveniently close to the bars of his cell. He reached out and caught hold of the templar's foot and pulled him closer. He'd seen where Biff had kept the key to his cell. He had to worm his hand down the neck of Biff's armor, past the wound still streaming blood, and find the key. "Uh. Guh. Gross!" Anders withdrew his hand, now dripping blood, and had the key on a length of leather. A burst of fire out of his hand parted the leather and he pulled the key free and unlocked his cell door.

He opened the door and was picking his way over the fallen templars and the couple of darkspawn they'd killed when another darkspawn ran into the room from the same direction as the others.

"Whoa!" Anders yelled as it made a beeline toward him. He blasted the darkspawn with an impressive gout of fire and was gratified to see the darkspawn drop to the ground screaming in pain. He kept up the fire until the darkspawn stopped moving. The flame shooting out of his hands flickered out and he turned around to see two women staring at him.

"Uh, I didn't do it." He hid his still steaming hand behind his back. "I mean, I'm not broken up about them dying to be perfectly honest. Biff there made the funniest gurgle when he went down. I guess having a darkspawn rip out your throat does that."

Anders took in the two women. One was clad in heavy armor and the other was... vastly pregnant. She staggered and clutched at the warrior's arm and her face scrunched up with pain.

"Who...nnngh... are you?" she asked.

She panted heavily and a nimbus of magical energy pulsed around her. It was a bracing sort of magic. It seemed to boost his magic, too, and his fatigue faded. Whatever mana he'd used to kill the darkspawn was quickly replaced.

The intensely strong magic was coming from her!

"Maker... you're the one I felt." She didn't look particularly dangerous. She was so very pregnant and looked rather young and pretty, and had obviously been outside in the rain. Her hair was escaping from a braid and stuck to her face and neck in slashes of very dark red. She had dark eyes, it was too dark to see exactly what color they were, but they stood out in her pale face.

"You may call me Anders, my dear lady. I am a mage and, sadly, a wanted apostate." He moved over to her side. "You're... in pain? May I examine you?"

"An apostate?" Mhairi said, the scorn obvious in her voice.

"In other circumstances, I would be too, Mhairi." She turned to Anders and nodded. "I think I'm in labor." She laughed but it was a bitter sounding laugh. "Not the best timing."

Anders put a hand on her shoulder and another on her stomach, touching the magical aura that seemed to surround her. It sent a thrill through his body that was better than lyrium. "Maker... how are you doing that?"

She shrugged. "I'm not, at least, I don't think I am. Is the baby all right?"

He concentrated a moment and pulled his hands away as if he'd been shocked. "Andraste's knickers! What are you?"

"I'm... Oh geez! It's a long story. I'm not a demon. I'm a Grey Warden. I just... I'm different but I'm not from the Fade."

Anders was surprised by the vehement protests as if she'd been asked this a lot. Of course, if she'd been around mages much she probably had been asked this a lot. There was just something very off about her.

"She is the Commander of the Grey," the soldier told him, "the hero of Ferelden. She's not a _what_!" She looked very put out with Anders.

Anders looked at her in surprise. "Well yes. Er, I... you're Elissa Cousland? No one mentioned you were a mage."

She waved a hand. "Not many people know. I try to... nnnnngh! Ow! Dammit... can you stop this?"

"Your labor? No, you wouldn't want me to. It'll harm the baby. Look, you've got to get to a bed. I can deliver the baby for you."

She shook her head. "Can't," she said through clenched teeth, "this place is crawling with darkspawn."

Anders shook his head. "Well, if you insist. Look, you'd better let me tag along. You might need my help along the way."

Elissa nodded. "Thank you." She relaxed suddenly as though the contraction had passed. "Is the baby all right?"

Anders nodded. "It's fine. You're early in your labor. You'll have time between contractions. It might be hours yet before they get more frequent and stronger."

"Good, we might need hours to get these darkspawn out of here." She gestured to Mhairi. "Lead on, Mhairi. I assume you know your way around here."

Mhairi nodded curtly. "Yes, Commander. This way."

They encountered groups of darkspawn all over the keep. There were people hiding in rooms and they encouraged them to run. Eventually they came upon a room full of darkspawn and a very short person... _a dwarf? _In the tower one doesn't see dwarves very often.

"Hey, Lucy!" the dwarf waved at her. "Glad you could make it!" He spared her a glance and momentarily boggled at her very large midsection. A hurlock's axe came hurtling toward the dwarf's head but an enormous lightning bolt struck the darkspawn and forked into what looked like a half dozen branches. The hurlock was partially vaporized and six other darkspawn were jittering and spasming.

"Andraste's tits!" Anders stared at Elissa. "How do you do that?"

She shrugged. "I'm a mage. It's just one of things I learned to do." There was something furtive in her eyes, a little moment of concern that passed over her face, but she commented no further.

"I don't remember you from the tower." Anders saw the dwarf was bleeding from numerous small wounds so he healed them.

"I never went to the tower," she replied. "I came... rather late to my talents." Another lightning bolt flew from her hand and a pair of darkspawn fell.

"Hey, thanks, Luce!" the dwarf waved at her.

The soldier woman, Mhairi, charged to one of the few remaining darkspawn but Elissa zapped it before she could even swipe at it with her sword. Anders heard Mhairi swear softly. Her sword was remarkably clean.

Anders glanced at the commander again. She seemed barely taxed even with all these enormous lightning bolts she was casting. She turned and looked at him suddenly and caught him staring. She smiled, rather grimly, but it did light up her face a little.

"What? Do I have darkspawn stuff on me?" She rubbed at her face. "Be careful of their ick. It isn't good for you."

"Uh, no. I was just admiring your very large... lightning bolts."

The commander laughed, and for the first time it sounded like honest amusement. This time her face really lit up and there was a flash of a mischievous twinkle in her eye like they'd just shared a dirty joke. Anders felt his own lips turn up in response. She was the weirdest thing he'd ever encountered, but he liked her already.

They quickly cleaned up the rest of the room and the dwarf, Oghren, joined them as they continued to the next room.

They went from room to room cleaning the darkspawn out. The commander – the dwarf called her Lucy – told Anders she could sense where they were. He also sensed she was holding back so that Mhairi and Oghren could get some licks in.

"So, what have you got?" Lucy asked him.

"Me?" A broad smile spread across his lips. "Why, commander, we've just met!"

She chuckled. "Magic-wise. What are you good at?"

Anders sighed heavily. "Oh that! I thought you meant... Well, magic-wise I'm a rather good healer and I've made a study of enhancing and battle magic." He looked at her sideways with a sly look. "There are other, less well-known types of magic I've studied. Forbidden magic, but stuff that gets passed around at the Circle informally. I have been told I excel at it."

The commander snorted. "Ha! You're either talking about blood magic or..."

Anders frowned in mock disgust. "Blood magic? Never, touch the stuff. It's icky and never comes out of clothes."

Suddenly Oghren let out a big bellowing shout. Anders turned to look at him. He'd just taken a nasty cut to the arm. He cast a healing spell and the dwarf's wound knitted. _I'd better pay better attention to the fight. _He and the commander were chatting while the warriors were getting beat on badly.

"Nice," the commander said.

Anders couldn't keep himself from preening a bit. He cast another spell that froze several of the darkspawn around them.

The darkspawn were nearly dead when the commander was gripped with contractions again. She grabbed his arm and squeezed it tightly.

"Ow! Dammit!"

Her face furrowed with pain.

"Okay," Anders said calmly. "Just breathe deeply and slowly. It'll pass soon." He put his hand on the small of her back to help support her. "Breathe."

The commander drew in some slow, deep breaths and after a few minutes the contractions stopped. "I think I can go on now." She stopped and her eyes glazed over for a moment. "I feel a few more darkspawn above us. Is there a staircase nearby, Mhairi?"

Mhairi nodded. "Yes, right this way." She led their team of darkspawn hunters up some stairs onto the battlements.

Anders hoped that they came to the end of the darkspawn soon. Elissa's contractions were coming closer together. The baby was getting impatient. He also wanted to get away, but he wouldn't go just yet, not until after the baby was delivered and... he wanted to unravel the mystery of this woman. Who was she really and where was the man who was responsible for her condition?

_Oh Maker, not again, Anders! _This was how he was caught before. He would get wrapped up in some woman and stay in one place too long. The templars would come and he'd be back in the tower. Still, if anyone could keep the templars away, he had a feeling this woman could.

**Lucy**

It was a stroke of luck we ran into a healer mage shortly after my labor started. I instantly liked him. He had an irreverent sense of humor like my own. I was also relieved I was able to deflect him from the question of my origin. I didn't want to explain all that in front of Mhairi. She seemed like the sort who wasn't likely to take too well to excessive amounts of strangeness. She hadn't started chanting yet or anything, but I sensed it wouldn't take much more to push her into religiosity. I could just see her running off to the nearest chantry to report that the Warden-Commander was an abomination.

My contractions were starting to get closer together. I'd always heard that first children took a really long time to come, but I seemed to be bucking the norm. This one was going to come and soon!

We found a talking darkspawn on the battlements. He pushed a soldier off and there was another rather dignified man he looked about to kill.

"Capture the Grey Warden," he said. "These others may be killed."

I shivered as his gravelly voice. _Capture me? For what purpose? _I knew what purpose women were used by the darkspawn. "Fat chance, asshole!" I let go with the biggest lightning bolt yet and killed the darkspawn holding the gray haired man.

Anders gave me another glance. I knew I was freaking him out with the displays of my wild magic, but it couldn't be helped. I was about to cast another bolt when I was seized by a really hard contraction. I gasped and stumbled against the wall.

Oghren and Mhairi charged in to battle the talking darkspawn freak. Anders came over to me with a concerned look on his face.

"Help them. I'm all right," I lied. I felt like my uterus was trying to crawl out of my bellybutton. This was normal labor... I hoped so anyway. I wasn't sure that the freaky talking darkspawn was going to die quite so easily as the others.

The fight raged on about me and I tried to pay attention and do what I could to help. My spells were getting weaker as the contractions got stronger. God! I needed to lie down and work on getting this baby out of me. I slid down the wall and sat on the cold stone floor and panted; all my attention was now focused on my uterus and the pain.

"Let's get her to a bedroom," I heard Anders say.

"I know the way. Can you walk, commander?" Mhairi stood over me and I looked up.

"Maybe." I was gripped by another contraction and suddenly wasn't quite so certain, but Anders extended a hand and he pulled me to my feet.

Oghren watched us; I could see a wise-ass comment burning on his face. "So which one did that to you, Luce? I'd put money on the general..."

"Shut it, Oghren!" I huffed at him between contractions. The last thing I needed was for him to expose my sordid sex life during the Blight to everyone.

Anders shot an interested look to Oghren who looked very much like he had a secret he was just dying to tell. I bet the very next person to get drunk with Oghren was going to get an earful about me.

I walked with my arm thrown over Anders to hold myself up and his arm wrapped around me to support me. Every now and then we had to stop as a particularly strong contraction gripped me, but eventually we came to a small room with a bed and they got me into it.

"I'll find a clean nightgown for her to wear." Mhairi rushed off looking like she didn't want to be anywhere near a laboring woman. Okay, so she wasn't the maternal type. Not all of us are. I wasn't certain I was either.

"You've got to get out of those wet things, Lucy." Anders took off my cloak and started to work on taking my boots off.

"Oghren, go get drunk or something," I said when I saw he was standing there looking curious.

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Oghren scurried out of the door and I heard him opening and closing doors looking for booze.

Anders helped me out of the clothes I was wearing. It was a dress since my belly was too big to wear armor. I was a little embarrassed to be baring myself to someone who was nearly a complete stranger but one did what one must. While we waited for Mhairi to return with the nightgown he wrapped a blanket around me.

"What? Uh, you seem to be lacking hair... there." He scratched at the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

I felt myself flush. "I remove it with a bit of strategic fire spell usage."

"Well, that must have taken some rather extraordinary control, which is extremely impressive, but it does raise the question as to why."

I flushed even more wishing for a very strong contraction to derail this conversation; sadly my uterus wasn't cooperating. "It's just a... convenience."

"For?" He pushed for more.

"Use your imagination!" I snapped.

"Oh, I am. Believe me, I am!" A big grin spread across his face. "But, you missed some, you know?"

I faked a contraction to get off the subject.

Mhairi came back and helped me into the nightgown while Anders started a fire in the fireplace. Then he sent Mhairi to go fetch water and clean linens. She looked relieved to be going again.

Anders piled up the pillows on the bed so that I would be somewhat upright and he positioned me how he wanted me.

"You've done this before?" I asked him.

"A few times. Every so often someone in the tower would give birth. We're usually pretty careful of such things... knowing how children of mages are usually taken away." He spread apart my legs and peered at me, but kept chattering. I think to keep me calm. "Most likely the very people abusing the mages are sometimes their sons or daughters. I also delivered a few children on my escape attempts."

"Escape? Nnngh!"

"Keep breathing, Lucy. The baby is perhaps an hour off." He changed back to the question I had asked abruptly. "Yes, escapes, plural. I tried to get away seven times. Well, officially this is my seventh time and I had been recaptured again."

He chattered on, telling his life story and encouraging me to push and breathe. Every now and then he cast a rejuvenation spell on me to keep the exhaustion at bay. I was pretty insensible to everything but the sound of his voice and my labor so I was surprised when the door crashed open and Loghain walked in.

"Lucy? Maker's breath, woman. What were you thinking going off to Amaranthine in your condition?" He crossed the room and pulled a chair up to the bed.

Anders glared at Loghain for a moment then turned to me. "I take it you know him? Want me to throw him out?"

Loghain glared back. "I'd like to see you try."

I groaned, holding my stomach in my hands. "Please, Loghain... just take a seat. Save the tongue-lashing for later, I'm trying to push out a baby here and it's just a bit uncomfortable. Anders seems to know what he's doing."

Anders looked at Loghain again, this time a bit startled. "Ah... General... Teyrn Loghain?" I could see he was starting to piece together the possibility that the baby's father was here from the bit Oghren had let drop. "All right then. Back to it, Lucy. Breathe... that's right." Then I was gripped again by another contraction. "Push! Push! Push! Push!" he encouraged me.

I was straining hard, probably turning purple, trying to expel that _thing_ out of me. I had stopped thinking of the baby as a baby, a cute little thing I was going to love and cherish; now it had become 'the thing I want out of me now!'

The contraction stopped and I leaned back panting, gasping for air and sweating profusely. Anders wiped off my face with a clean cloth and talked softly to me. I had just caught my breath when another contraction hit.

I was pushing like crazy, Anders was talking me through it, and Loghain was looking on rather pale-faced, when the door crashed open again.

"Teyrn Loghain!" A woman dressed in a templar's uniform and several men crashed into the bedroom. "Beware, this man is a dangerous criminal."

Loghain looked up at her. "Templar, this is hardly the time for that. My... This woman is giving birth." He got up from where he was sitting and crossed over to her.

"Oh, great." Anders said sadly. "Back to the tower, I suppose."

"This is an apostate who we were in the process of bringing back to the Circle to face justice!"

"Oh, please. The things you people know about justice would fit into a thimble. I'll just escape again anyway."

I was floundering in the contraction. Should I be breathing deeply or pushing? I couldn't remember. I wanted the baby out but I also wanted that annoying woman to leave too. "Get her out of here, Loghain!" I yelled.

Loghain stood nose-to-nose to the templar. "You heard the Warden-Commander. Get out."

The woman slashed the air with her hand. "I'm not leaving without the maleficar. He's going to hang for the murders he has committed.

"Murders? But those templar were – oh, what's the use? You won't believe me anyhow." Anders sighed; he sounded defeated.

I gritted my teeth. "Those templars were killed by darkspawn," I snarled. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. I assume mages have other ways of killing than using their teeth on someone's neck..." I really, really hoped I wasn't going to leak magic again in front of all these templars. I tried to shut the door on the Fade as much as possible, but the contractions made it hard to concentrate.

"Nonetheless, the man is a maleficar and he must be punished," she insisted stubbornly.

Loghain turned to me and raised an eyebrow. "Grey Wardens are beyond the purview of the Chantry, Commander, if you catch my drift."

"Nnngharrrrgh! Oh! You mean... Nnnngh... Crap! Okay, I am invoking the Grey Warden..." I stopped to catch my breath and push, "Nnnnnargh! Right of Conscription on this mage." I gave a small scream as I felt things shift inside me and get very, very painful. "Now get the hell out of here and let me have my damn baby!" I shouted.

"What? Never!" she shouted nearly as loud as I just did.

Loghain drew his sword. "Templar... the Grey Wardens still retain the Right of Conscription. You have no place here." He slid the tip of the sword toward her. "Now leave!" he bellowed.

The woman stiffened and briefly tipped her head. "If Your Grace feels it is best..." The templar turned and she and her companions strode out of the room.

"Me? A Grey Warden? I guess that will work..." Anders wore a smug smile on his face. "Good job, Lucy... Er, I guess I should call you Commander Lucy. Now, let's see about that baby."

His head disappeared between my legs and then his face popped up again. "We're making progress! I want you to really push on the next one."

Oh, I did. I pushed like I was trying to move Mount Sunder with my pelvic muscles. Everything got really painful then. Loghain sat on the other side of the bed and held my hand while Anders coached me to breathe, push, inhale, exhale and so forth. In the worst of it, I totally lost control of my magic and everyone's hair was standing on end from the electricity I was generating. Anders kept up the frequent application of a rejuvenation spell.

I was strong, very strong, in this youthful body with all the training I had done. The baby was properly positioned, my hips were wide enough... it was a text book delivery. I was fortunate because so many women did die during childbirth in this era.

I gave one last push and the baby was freed from his solitary confinement and I fell back on the pillows feeling rather freed myself. I shortly heard a healthy cry and Anders and Loghain looked at one another and smiled.

"Congratulations, Lucy. You have a healthy baby boy!" Anders caught a glimpse of Loghain's expression and I think he decided to risk a guess. "I suppose I should extend congratulations to you as well?"

Loghain ignored him.

"My god," I whispered. "Who would have thought I could have a child at my age?" I smiled up at Loghain and Anders wrapped a little blanket around the baby and put him in my arms. He had a sprinkling of black hair on his head and his eyes under his heavy, sleepy lids, were a steel grey, but who know what color they'd end up being?

"Your age?" Anders chuckled. "Right. What are you? Twenty?"

I knew I was going to tell Anders my secret. I'd tell all the Wardens, should I find any more. I was sick of hiding it from the people who were around me the most. Besides, I had the protection of the most powerful people in the country. I might not flaunt the truth, but I wasn't going to try to hide from people close to me. I smiled at him enigmatically. "I'm older than I look."

Loghain chuckled and leaned over to kiss me. "He's beautiful, Lucy."

I beamed at the baby. "Maybe it's just me, but you're right. Babies are usually all scrunchy looking aren't they? This one is just... perfect. Anders you've been around babies a bit, what do you think? Exceptionally perfect child or am I being a typical mother?"

Anders smiled at me indulgently. "He is a very handsome lad." He grabbed a toe and tickled it gently. "But I delivered him so I might be biased as well."

~o~o~o~

Loghain and his men found the remaining survivors and started to put the fortress back into some semblance of order while I recuperated. I spent two days in bed, but between Anders' healing skills and the speed at which my body healed, I was out of bed quickly.

The baby was an angel. He rarely fussed and loved being held and nursed. He seemed to watch me a lot, though his eyes never looked entirely focused. I wondered just how the world looked to him and what he was thinking about, or even if he was thinking. Maybe it was all just a big impressionistic painting to him; all he saw were blurs of color and movement.

I wondered over his paternity too. Loghain was convinced he was the father, but I secretly saw Danny's features on his face. I supposed it was still possible that it could be Zevran's child. Who is to say one of his parents didn't have dark hair or dark eyes? I didn't know whether anyone in Elissa's family had black hair, it could have been from her family.

"What are you going to name him?" Loghain asked me.

I'd been mulling it over for a long time. I didn't want to name him after one of his potential fathers, but I thought I could get away with a name similar to Riordan's. "I was thinking of Daniel." I looked down into my boy's peaceful face. "What do you think?"

Loghain picked up the baby's tiny fist. "Daniel. Dan." He looked at him speculatively. "It's a good name. Masculine. I like it."

So my child was named Daniel. Daniel Woodridge Cousland. It irritated me I couldn't give him my true last name, so I gave it to him as a middle name and hoped no one would ever call him "Woody".

**Morrigan**

Morrigan held the child she'd given birth to the night before. It had a few strands of black hair dusting its skull, pale blue eyes and a nose that looked remarkably like Loghain's. She saw nothing of herself in it.

_It._ That's how she thought of it... her. It was difficult to believe that within this tiny, frail, ugly, as all babies are, creature there was the soul of an old god. This was all a grand experiment; not even Flemeth had known what the results of this would be.

_What will a babe born with the soul of an old god exhibit? _Flemeth had written in her grimoire. _Will she be born with the knowledge of her prior life? Or will she be a blank slate upon which a mother can write whatever she wishes? I only lament that I am not young enough to do this myself. Morrigan can only be trusted so far. Had I more time to prepare, had Morrigan fully mastered her abilities, it would be me doing this. Unluckily, I cannot see how this will turn out, no matter how hard I scry. The future is strangely murky. There is only one thing I can see clearly now. I must bring that woman from Earth. The key to everything lies within her. _

_I will soon go to Earth and find her. Then I must unbind her soul from her body, tether it before it floats off into the ether. To the girl, Elissa, I must do the same. Finding her is a much easier task, fortunately. Once the exchange is done, Lucy must do all that is required or I will fail. I shall bind Morrigan's will to the task._

_Once the babe is born can I possess the child and gain the old god's power? An interesting question... one I am not certain I wish to risk._

Morrigan threw Flemeth's grimoire aside. So many unanswered questions! And now she was saddled with what to all appearances appeared to be just a typical newborn brat.

The baby squirmed and cried yet again and Morrigan unhappily pulled aside her blouse to feed it.

"I suppose I should name you," she finally spoke to the child. "I know nothing of naming babies. Perhaps I should name you for my mother, she would have liked that." She laughed bitterly at that. She hated Flemeth especially now that she knew Flemeth had intended to possess her someday. She thought of all the names she knew. Women from stories that Flemeth had told her, from the few books her mother had owned... and then there were the very few women she had known. Wynne, Lucy and Leliana were the sum of it, other than a few Chasind she'd met.

_Lucy..._ she mused. Now there was an unusual name and an unusual woman. They'd become friends although toward the end they'd had a large disagreement. Fortunately that Antivan was besotted with Lucy and arranged for Morrigan what she had wanted. The General was just as infatuated and agreed to impregnate her to save his dear Lucy's life. Morrigan laughed sourly. If there was one thing Lucy knew how to do it was how to lure men to her. It was an admirable skill although she doubted Lucy thought of it as a skill. It was an ability the newly reincarnated old god, the god of beauty, would certainly possess. It was with a certain sense of perversity and a bit of a homage to Lucy that Morrigan decided what she would name it.

"Your name is Lucine, child. Live up to my expectations." She watched the babe nurse for a moment and then in a rare gesture ran her hand tenderly along the child's skull, through the fine black hair.

"Don't disappoint me, Lucy."

_~o~o~o~_

**_Note: _**_You might notice I change perspective from third to first and change POV's too. It's an experiment. I always felt too locked into Lucy's head in the last story. This way I get to show glimpses of what is going on in other people's heads. This way you, the reader, get to know things that Lucy doesn't know._

_I love your reviews! They are my muse. Please review. :)_

_My thanks to Biff who is heroically still beta-reading for me and smoothing things out. And my thanks always to Zevgirl for her feedback!_


	2. How to Manage Your Vassals

**How to Manage Your Vassals**

**Nathaniel**

He waited in his cell for his jailers to hang him. Then he waited for the darkspawn to kill him. Then he was forgotten and he waited to die of thirst. Then his jailers remembered him again and he was back to waiting to be hung. The sound of footsteps made him wonder if it was finally his death coming. He leaned against a wall and scowled at the woman who opened the door.

The woman stopped suddenly as if stunned for a moment. She quickly regained her composure and came forward.

"Well, Elissa Cousland..." Nathaniel raked her with his eyes. She was older, of course, he hadn't seen her in a few years, but she was different too. Her bearing was different. She wasn't as haughty as he remembered her. Her face seemed softer, friendlier. "Somehow I was expecting my father's murderer to be more impressive."

"You're his son?" she asked. "I think I saw you in Denerim. Were you there for the festivities?" She tilted her head and looked at him closely. "Man, you sure have his beak... er, nose."

Nathaniel laughed bitterly. "Don't play with me, Lissy. You know who I am. My father was forever trying to get us married. Surely you haven't forgotten that. Fortunately he gave up that idea and sent me to the Free Marches instead. At least the women there have breasts."

She looked down at her chest and threw back her shoulders. Her breasts did look larger than he remembered. "You'd be amazed at the things I've forgotten... uh, like your name."

He launched himself from the back wall and gripped the bars furiously in his hands. "Na-than-iel," he said it slowly as if trying to teach an idiot to say it. "Stop playing with me. If you've come down here to gloat then..."

Elissa sighed and sagged visibly. "I'm not here to gloat, Nathaniel. I'm here to check out the prisoner, which is you, I guess. They said it took four Grey Wardens to take you down. What exactly were you doing here?"

"I thought you'd be here, with the Grey Wardens. I was going to try to kill you... lay a trap for you, but you weren't here. I heard them say you were staying in Denerim. So then I just decided to get some of my family's things. It's all I have left."

Elissa looked at him with something like pity, or understanding. It infuriated him. "Look, whatever happened to the Couslands was horrible, but it was war. It shouldn't have impacted my entire family. The Howes are pariahs now. "

"I agree, sort of," she said. "Although I suppose stripping a noble family of their lands and their... stuff... is an effective way to keep the nobility in line. Shame your father didn't fully consider the consequences of losing. Although perhaps he thought the risk was worth it."

Nathaniel snarled at her. "You talk as if... How can you be so dispassionate about it all?"

"Well... it's a long story. Perhaps I'll tell you one day, but..."

"Oh get on with it. You destroyed my family and now you get to decide my fate." He laughed bitterly. "Ironic, isn't it?"

She looked at him appraisingly, crossing her arms. "What will you do if I let you go?"

"If you let me go?" He laughed and looked at her disbelievingly. _She's playing with me. "_ I might come back again. You might not catch me next time." _I won't be toyed with._

"I think I've decided." She smiled at him sadly and turned to leave him.

"Cousland bitch!" He called out after her.

"Not so much these days." He heard her voice floating down the stairwell back to him as she left.

**Loghain**

He wanted to stay longer. Lucy clearly needed his help while she was recovering from child birth and the keep was a mess from the darkspawn attacks, but his daughter was due any day now. If there was ever a man torn between his desires and his duty, it was him.

He held "his" son, Daniel, and walked around her room bouncing him gently. "Who's da-da's good boy?" He gently pushed the tiny button of his nose with his big finger. "You are! Yes, you are!" He was rewarded by either a smile or a grimace, or perhaps it was just the baby passing a little gas.

Lucy was grinning. "I rather enjoy seeing this side of you, Loghain. You must have been a wonderful father to Anora."

He snorted softly, not wishing to alarm his son with his cynicism. "I was a terrible father to Anora. I was rarely around since I spent so much time in Denerim with Maric. When I did see her I was always mindful she would be the queen one day so my standards for her were high. Too high really. She didn't have much of a childhood." He smoothed down the ruffled black hair on Daniel's head. "But this little one, he's free to become whatever he wants to be."

Lucy nodded. "Of course. Growing up without a title isn't such a bad thing is it?"

Loghain shook his head. "Not bad at all. Other than the Orlesians, I had a happy childhood."

He handed the baby back to Lucy and she pulled away the neck of her dress to feed him. "Lucy, I have to go back to Denerim and be there for Anora."

Lucy sighed contentedly and settled back into her chair. "I know. She's going to need you there. We'll get by. The seneschal, Varel, seems pretty competent."

He frowned. "I don't want to go. Look, I'll be back as soon as I can. I also told Varel to find you a wet-nurse."

Lucy was startled out of her relaxed pose. "What? I intend to breastfeed this baby myself!"

Loghain sat next to her and took her hand. "That's not realistic, Lucy, you're going to be too busy. You've got far too much on your plate to tackle that too."

"I don't suppose you have breast pumps here?"

Loghain shrugged. "Never heard of them, but I wouldn't be an expert."

Lucy's face fell and tears began to well up in her eyes. "I thought I'd get a chance to be a mom and do the whole..." she sniffed noisily, "... the whole mom thing! I was going to breastfeed for at least a year."

Loghain put an arm around her and the baby and pulled them close. "I know. I know. Look, why don't I write to Weisshaupt and tell them..."

"No!" Lucy looked alarmed. "I don't want them to know about the baby. I don't want them interfering again. I don't trust them. Better to deal with this on my own than having them involved in any way."

He caressed her cheek with his thumb and wiped away a trail of tears. She sighed and looked up at him with her dark brown eyes. She looked so fragile and vulnerable, so unlike when he had first met her. Then she was all sharp angles, tough as a whip, always fast with a comeback. Her pregnancy had softened her, made her susceptible. She said it was "whore moans", just another one of those things she had said that made no sense to him. He'd gotten good at steering clear of asking about such things, they usually led to a long pointless discourse that made no damn sense to him. Well, whatever the cause of the softness and vulnerability he had an overwhelming desire to protect her and the baby. It ripped him in two to have to leave her to go to Denerim. He leaned in and kissed her gently, lingering with his lips just touching hers.

She sighed softly then pulled back just enough to barely disengage their lips. "Don't do this, Loghain. I can't change how I feel about Zevran."

"He's not here. I am." He pulled Elissa back to him and she leaned against his shoulder.

She stiffened and pulled away. "That's not fair, Loghain." Her expression clouded; she looked angry.

"You never did tell me why he left."

She sighed. "The Crows came for another visit a couple months back... they captured me to try to get to him. Apparently no one leaves the Crows, at least not alive. He went back to Antiva to 'resolve' things."

Loghain opened his mouth, ready to tell her there was no way the elf was going to survive that, but he thought better of it. She was so emotional right now. She really did love that elf, or so she said. Telling her that he was almost certainly dead seemed a little self-serving not to mention insensitive. "Maker... do you really think it's wise to be mixed up with this Crow? You have a little one to think about now."

"That's why he went to Antiva. He'll either take over the cell or die trying. Either way, problem solved." Her face crumpled again and she drew a deep breath, obviously fighting back the tears.

Loghain pulled her back to his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lucy. If there's anything I can do..."

"Just one thing, if you..."

"Anything, Lucy, name it."

"Stay with me tonight? I just... I don't want to be alone."

"Of course."

Nothing could have been easier than to slip into bed with her and hold her closely as she fell asleep. It reminded him of so many other times they'd done this, except without the passion. This felt right.

Daniel slept in a cradle next to the bed. He woke up several times to nurse and Loghain got up and handed the baby to Lucy. He sat up with them and watched her half-drowsing, the baby sucking sleepily at her nipple. He wished he didn't have to go.

When dawn came he kissed her gently and got out of bed carefully so as not to wake her. He stooped down to kiss his son goodbye and gazed at him a few moments, trying to imprint his image on his mind. It might be awhile before he saw his boy again.

**Anders**

"How're you feeling, Commander?" He laid a hand on her mid-section and felt for anything unusual and found nothing.

"Good! You did a great job healing. Even my belly has shrunk up already."

Anders preened at the compliment. "There are a lot of things that get a bit... well, stretched and abused when you have a baby. I put them all back to their original condition."

Lucy smiled. "Damn! I doubt Wynne could have done better."

"Wynne? You know that old girl?" Anders looked at her curiously.

"Well sure, she was with us through the whole Blight nearly. Surely you heard that."

Anders shook his head. "I was spending quite a lot of time as a guest in the dungeon under the Tower. I pretty much missed hearing about the Blight entirely, except at the very end, just before my last escape attempt." He laughed and shook his head. "So, what was it like traveling around with Wynne for a year? I bet you heard quite a few lectures."

I snorted. "You don't know the half of it. She disapproved of me mightily at times. Eh, we got along pretty well despite everything. We have a thing or two in common."

"Such as?"

"Our ages aren't that far apart, although I'm far more hip than she is."

He squinted at her. "You still haven't explained..."

"I'm not going to until you've undergone the Joining. Once you're one of us... I'll feel better about telling you my secrets."

"One of you? Just what does this _joining _involve?"

She cackled and rubbed her hands together. "You become part of the giant hive-mind the Wardens all share. Then our secrets will become yours and you'll never divulge them no matter what."

Anders rubbed at his chin a moment. "You're having one on me, aren't you?"

"Can you see me being part of a hive-mind? They'd kick me out once they saw the sort of thoughts that race around in my mind. Either that or I'd drag the rest of the hive-mind into the gutter where I habitually reside."

He laughed. "Okay, so now I know what it isn't. What _is _it?"

"It's a secret. However, we need to make this stuff and I need your help." She pulled out a piece of parchment. "Here! I got this improved Joining potion formula from an old mage in a creepy old Grey Warden tower. I can't read it though... it's in some weird language." She handed the page to Anders.

He read it. "Arcanum. We write lots of stuff in Arcanum, mostly because the only people who can read it, usually, are other mages." His eyes scanned the page. "Archdemon blood?"

"Got a keg of it from the... you know, archdemon."

He nodded and went on reading it. "Darkspawn blood?"

She nodded. "Check."

"Lyrium...some herbs, cinnamon, sugar..."

"Cinnamon and sugar? Huh! What for?" she asked.

"It says to make it taste better. We also need Grey Warden blood."

"Really?"

He pointed at the paper, "_Krv správcu_. Blood of the Warden. Wait... this involves blood magic." His doubt was beginning to grow.

"Was your first clue all the blood? Sometimes we have to do that sort of thing. When it comes to darkspawn and blights and such, the Grey Wardens rarely hesitate to use any tool at their disposal."

"I don't do blood magic," he said stubbornly. "You can never get it out of your clothes. Besides, the Chantry has reason enough to hate me."

"I'll do it. Just tell me what I have to do."

They went over the ritual and Lucy took copious notes and assembled all the ingredients.

Anders caught her just before she went to slice open her hand and bleed into the mixture and recite the incantation. "Don't do it."

She sighed. "Anders look, I'm not entirely unfamiliar with blood magic. I've talked to some blood mages, they don't instantly turn into abominations. I think it's just people grasping after power who do. Maybe there's something about being tain... a Grey Warden that keeps it from happening. Just trust me."

"No, it says here that this part of the ritual needs to be done right before the potion is drunk." He shuddered. "Ew! We have to drink this?"

"Oh! I see." She nodded sympathetically. "Yeah... sorry, you do drink it. It is pretty awful but you'll be able to sense darkspawn and... some other things."

Anders felt distinctly queasy at the thought. "All right. I guess if it gets me away from the Circle once and for all..."

She nodded. "It will. Once you're a Grey Warden, the Chantry can't touch you. Even the king and queen will back us up on that." She hesitated for a moment. "Okay, go down to the great hall. Tell Varel to assemble the others and we can do it then."

Anders nodded and started for the door.

She reached out and grasped his arm for a moment. He turned and looked at her, her eyes contained something he couldn't quite read but he thought they looked a little sad.

"I just want to say thank you for everything you've done for me... the baby... helping us."

Anders nodded and left feeling a little unsettled at her expression. _Ah well, whatever it is it has to be better than being hung at the Tower__._

**Lucy**

I gazed at the chalice filled with red-black blood, smelling faintly of cinnamon, and wondered who I would be killing this day. Alistair said everyone but me died at my... Elissa's Joining. I guess, in a manner of speaking, that moment had eventually killed Elissa too. I hoped Avernus was right about this formula; that it would result in fewer deaths. I wanted to steel myself to it, but my emotions were so close to the surface.

_Stupid hormones!_ I'd wept for an hour after I got up and saw Loghain was gone. Then I'd fed the baby and he had made such a cute expression that it made my heart ache and I cried again. Then I thought of Zevran and wondered if I'd ever see him again and that set me off for the third time. I could tell Loghain was biting his tongue last night. I was certain he thought Zevran was dead. I almost believed it myself, why else wouldn't he have at least written to me?

_Stop it!_ I slapped myself. "Ow." I walked over to the mirror in my bedroom and snarled at myself. "Stop this pathetic weeping, woman!" I growled. I drew my eyebrows up and looked at myself with a cowed expression. "Okay," I said, meekly. I switched back to mean-Lucy. "Get yourself together, Lucy! No one is going to take you seriously if you burst into tears every five minutes." Meek-Lucy nodded. "I... I'll do it!" Mean-Lucy nodded curtly. "See you do!"

I turned and walked resolutely from my room to the great hall. The recruits were all assembled.

Varel approached me. "May I have a moment, Commander?"

"Of course." He guided me to a private corner of the hall.

"Do you think it's wise to recruit the Howe? I understand he has some... enmity towards you."

"It's a risk, but I don't believe in punishing the children for the crimes of their parents. This gives him a way to, in some measure, redeem his family name." I hoped I wasn't just being overly optimistic; I had that tendency. He did say he had planned to kill me, but then when it came down to it, he didn't. Of course, I wasn't there to be killed...

Varel nodded. "As you wish. Would you like me to do the ceremony? The Grey Wardens who were here before you taught me the words."

Was it completely craven of me to nod? Even if I didn't hand them the chalice, their deaths would be on my hands. I nodded to Varel.

Varel spoke with gravitas. He gave the words a lot more dignity than I think I could have.

"Since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony: Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

I had to perform my little ritual now. I sliced across my hand with a very sharp knife and suppressed a shriek of pain. I let my blood flow into the goblet they would be drinking from. "Môže byť silne krv ochrániť." It was the Arcanum incantation that Anders had coached me in. It was something like, "Let the strength of my blood protect you." The blood dripping from my hand shimmered magically as it dripped into the cup.

After I counted at least ten fat drops of blood, I handed the cup to Varel and nodded to him. Varel looked at me suspiciously. He probably hadn't seen anything like this with the other Grey Wardens. I saw Anders watching me closely too, probably wondering if I was going to break out in abomination.

Varel gave the chalice to Oghren first. "Oghren, from this day forth you are a Grey Warden."

Oghren growled as he took the chalice, that was nearly as big as his head. "What's this? The sampler size? Are you making a crack about my height?"

I suppressed a laugh. "It's the same as everyone gets."

"Really? Huh!" He lifted it to his lips and began to drink heartily.

"Easy, buddy! You only need a sip," I cautioned him. I stood beside him and watched him carefully, ready to catch him if he fainted.

He stopped drinking and handed the cup to Varel. His eyes filmed over and he belched. "Not bad, really." He staggered unsteadily for a moment but then seemed fine.

Varel turned to me with a sigh. "Maker help us all."

"Amen, brother," I murmured.

Anders got the goblet next. "From this moment forth, Anders, you are a Grey Warden."

He looked at the contents of the chalice with disgust. "Even having helped prepare this doesn't seem to help. So I just drink this and... that's it?"

Varel nodded solemnly. "Yes, that is it."

Anders peered at it a moment longer and I prayed he wouldn't back out on me. "Well fine. But if I wake up chained in the hold of a slaver ship in nothing but my smallclothes, I'm blaming you, Commander Lucy."

I snorted. "I wouldn't do that. I'm sure someone around here could use those smallclothes."

"That's reassuring." He lifted the chalice to his lips and took a tentative swallow. He handed it to Varel and I stood beside him. When he began to teeter I stepped behind him and lowered him gently to the ground.

Varel stepped over to him and checked for a pulse. "He lives, Commander, and will awaken with time."

I sent my healing magic into him and looked around. His body was stressed, fighting as if against an infection. I decided not to interfere and left him lying there while we moved onto Mhairi.

Varel handed her the goblet and she looked at it reverently. "I've been waiting for this moment," she murmured, bringing the chalice to her lips and sipping the foul, cinnamon-scented mixture. Varel took the goblet from her. She began to choke and wheeze. I put my hands on her and sent healing magic into her. It was as if her immune system were being overwhelmed. I could feel her lungs filling with fluid and her heart beating irregularly, her body was being flooded with toxins and her internal organs were shutting down. There was nothing I could do but watch her die. I caught her as she fell and laid her down gently.

"I am sorry, Mhairi," I whispered over her as she took her last breath. Varel and I exchanged a glance and I could see the sorrow on his face too. I felt the tears burning behind my eyes again. I collected myself and then reached out and closed her eyelids. "May your Maker be with you."

Nathaniel watched us, horror crossing his features. "So this may be my execution after all." He laughed bitterly. "And you would have me think you merciful, Elissa?"

"Come on, Howe, I drank this. Don't tell me you're afraid?" I thought a little white... grey lie might buck up his courage. Perhaps I could sting his pride into doing it.

He held out his hand for the goblet and took it. "The moment of truth," he murmured and took a sip. I stood next to him as he started to waver and Varel snatched the goblet before he could drop it. "Don't touch me," he slurred as his eyes filmed over.

I ignored him and caught him as he fainted, laying him on the ground gently as I had the others.

"Is there a room we can take them too?" I asked Varel.

"Certainly, I'll have them moved." He looked at me appraisingly, perhaps noting my red eyes. "I'll have Mhairi taken care of too."

"Do we... notify someone? Next of kin?" I couldn't imagine how Wardens dealt with new recruits who didn't survive.

"We don't disclose the nature of the Joining and how dangerous it can be, Commander. If anyone comes to inquire of her, we'll tell them she perished in battle with darkspawn."

I nodded my head. "I see." I had been hoping the new formula would be less toxic, and perhaps it was. It sounded like the odds were usually pretty bad and I had a seventy-five percent survival rate so far.

"Commander, I can handle this. There are matters we should discuss later, but for now perhaps you should rest?" He looked concerned.

It was three days since I'd given birth and I was up and about. I felt fine, although I was a little tired and I figured the baby could use feeding.

"I'll send the wet-nurse up when she arrives," he said.

I couldn't help but frown. "All right."

I went upstairs to my room, the big one that had been Arl Howe's, sulking. _If the bloody Orlesians hadn't gotten themselves killed and the stupid darkspawn hadn't attacked and the acting-Commander hadn't died and if the goddamned Crows hadn't attacked, I wouldn't need a damn wet-nurse for my baby!_ The whole idea of someone else nursing my kid creeped me out, although I had to admit someone else's breast was better than no breastfeeding at all.

**Nathaniel**

He awoke with a pounding headache and the memory of dreams of horrifying creatures. Darkspawn, he assumed. He looked around and saw he was in a small room, one off the great hall where the major domo used to live. The drapes were pulled and it was late afternoon. The room was fairly dark. He sat up clutching at his head and groaned.

"Ah, you're awake. Good." Elissa stood up from the chair in the corner.

Her voice startled him. He hadn't seen her there. "What are _you _doing here? Your poison didn't work, I'm still alive. Did you come here to finish me off?"

She walked over to the bed and stood with her arms crossed. "Nate, haven't you figured out I'm not going to kill you?"

"You don't get to call me Nate," he hissed at her.

She sighed. "Nathaniel. Sorry."

"So what do you want?"

"In general, or right now?" she asked.

"Both."

"I wanted to tell you about the Grey Wardens and about the Joining. It's all a big secret because, as you saw, it is sometimes fatal. However, I got my hands on a formula for an improved potion and that's what you and the others drank. It is supposed to be less... deadly and it removes some of the negatives."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Well, usually Grey Wardens only live thirty years, give or take some, from their Joining. This is supposed to remove that problem. I've actually seen some older Wardens look rather rejuvenated when they took it."

"So what does that mean, the Grey Wardens get to own me for more than thirty years now?" he asked, bitterly.

She shook her head. "Wow, you're just determined to see a black cloud around every silver lining, aren't you? Maybe it's just me but I think not having to go into the Deep Roads to die fighting darkspawn in thirty years is an improvement."

"An improvement over what? You were a teyrn's daughter. I was an arl's son. How have our lots been improved by becoming Wardens?"

She stared and blinked at him, stunned to silence for a moment. "I... it wasn't a choice for me either, Nathaniel. I was forced to join when... your father killed... my parents." She sighed as though fighting through something. "I can't do this. You need to know the truth."

He scoffed and folded his arms looking disbelievingly at her. "That will be refreshing."

She walked to a chair and sat down. "I'm not Elissa Cousland. I'm Lucy Woodridge and I'm from somewhere very, very far away. A mage named Flemeth exchanged our minds. It's a long story..."

Nathaniel's lips began to turn up as she started her story and they were curling further with every sentence. "Maker, you're actually insane! Oh this is priceless. The Hero of Ferelden is a mad woman. Completely crazy."

She grimaced and bit her lip. "Look, Anders knows... well, not the details yet, but he could tell that I'm not from this world. Loghain knows, the king and queen know..."

"That you're insane? That I can believe." His mood had improved considerably. This was rich with satire. The Cousland bitch who killed his father had gone mad, his day was made.

She held out her hand and a flame burst into the center of it, filling the dark room with light. "Elissa couldn't do that, could she? I'm a mage, she wasn't."

Nathaniel scrambled back away from her. "Maybe... I don't know. Perhaps she...you hid it all these years."

"Okay, I can't force you to believe me, but you'll hear me out all the same." She flicked her hand and the flame disappeared. "I woke up in Elissa's body moments after she drank the potion... not the one you got, the other one that's a lot more brutal. The Grey Wardens didn't know what to make of me at first but eventually they decided I needed to pretend to be Elissa. They filled me in on her background, what they knew of it. I discovered my magical abilities and... the Blight happened. We killed the archdemon and here I am."

"And _you_ killed my father. Whether you're Lucy or Elissa, you're the one who killed him."

Lucy nodded. "I did. It was what Elissa would have done. I didn't enjoy it. Your father would have been hung or beheaded, I gave him the opportunity to die as a warrior."

Nathaniel sneered. "What gave you the right to be my father's executioner?"

"I wish I had a better answer for you, but it was a necessity."

"A necessity," he repeated hollowly.

"I had a part to play as Elissa Cousland. She would have sought revenge for the murders of her family and everyone at the Castle."

"And yet you spared me. She wouldn't have done that. Have you given up on playing your part?"

She shrugged. "It's difficult to pull off around people I spend a lot of time with, or who knew Elissa. I don't particularly like playing this role. I'm not even certain I would have liked her had I known her. I read her diary..."

Nathaniel barked out a short, sharp laugh. "Oh, that's rich. You wouldn't have liked yourself. Maker, you _are_ nuts."

She glared at him. "Enough. I need to tell you what to expect as a Grey Warden. The old formula left Grey Wardens' infertile, the new one doesn't affect that."

Nathaniel laughed again. "Yes, I heard about your little bastard. I can only imagine what Fergus is going to do once he hears about that."

He didn't see her move, but she was suddenly on top of him, almost crushing his windpipe with her arm. His eyes went wide with surprise. _How can anyone move that fast?_

"Don't you ever speak about my son like that again!" Her face was a feral mask of rage.

"All right," he choked out the words. She composed her face again and went back to her chair.

_Perhaps her story isn't entirely fiction. _Elissa was always a good fighter but this... this was not natural. "You'd better get used to it, Eliss... Lucy. You're failing to act like Elissa and that _will _get people talking. She would have hidden this child, or gotten married, or at the very least gotten the father to acknowledge it." He rubbed at his neck where she had squeezed. He felt like living dangerously. "So, who is the father?"

"None of your business, Howe. This conversation is over." She abruptly stood up and left the room.

Nathaniel leaned back against the headboard of the bed and mused over that utterly bizarre conversation. Elissa wasn't herself, that was for sure. Whether it was because she was insane, or because her story was true, he wasn't entirely certain. What he was certain of was that it was time to make a decision. He hadn't made many decisions of his own in his life and any time he had it had gotten him into trouble with his father.

What to do? He thought about killing her, completing the cycle that his father had started. He was beginning to think that might be harder than he had expected, but no one is vigilant all the time. She had to sleep, or turn her back on him and let her guard down. No, she was killable, if he would but bide awhile.

_She didn't kill me. _The thought still puzzled him. Elissa would have, he was certain. Fergus might still try. He laughed again. _What does Fergus think of his sister? _The Couslands would have had a fit over a Cousland bastard. It never would have happened if Bryce and Eleanor had been alive. Fergus would be livid. The bastard could potentially end up inheriting the teyrnir unless Fergus provided another heir. Then there was the matter of her sparing his life and allowing him to join the Wardens. Nathaniel could only imagine how furious that would make Fergus.

No. He wouldn't kill her, he decided. That would take all the fun out of watching this calamity play out.

**Anders**

He sat in stunned silence as Lucy, Commander Lucy, explained her origins to him. When she finished she sat with her hands clasped in her lap and waited for a reaction. He reached out and grasped her wrist and touched that foreign part of her and knew that, however unbelievable, she was telling the truth; she wasn't of this world. When he touched "normal" people with his magic they felt... normal. She just felt different. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, just unusual. It was a bit like taking a drink of water and finding out it's wine instead.

"And you never used magic until you came here, less than two years ago?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "No, magic doesn't work on my world." She laughed when she said it. "Oh, some people think it does but... no, it really doesn't."

"You... I could feel your magic from a long ways off that night I first met you. I never saw such displays of power from a single mage." Intellectually it should be an alarming thought. No one should have that sort of power – no one he ever heard of did – but she was such a charming, pretty girl with a wicked sense of humor. Those two facts couldn't occupy his brain at the same time.

She shrugged. "It was pregnancy hormones, I think. Those odd power surges are gone now. I have to admit they came in rather handy for killing all those darkspawn."

He bit his lip and thought some more. "You said that lyrium affects you like that too?"

She nodded. "Yes, it increases my power considerably. I really have to clamp down on the doorway to the Fade otherwise... I'm not exactly sure what would happen."

"Doorway to the Fade?"

"Oh... I visualize a door with a very bright light behind it. The Fade is the bright light. Then I shut the door most of the way when I've got a lot of lyrium in me. I shut it all the way once... I made myself tranquil, or at least that's what Wynne called it. She was able to snap me out of it though."

"Wow, that's just... weird!" He shook his head. "And how old did you say you were?"

"Well, I was fifty-two at the time. That was nearly two years ago."

"Andraste's knickers, woman! If the Chantry got wind of you..."

She stuck out her tongue. "I'm a Grey Warden, they can't touch me. I even have a note from the Second Warden explaining my weirdness."

"Yeah... I wouldn't rely on that too much."

"I'm the Hero of Ferelden, they wouldn't dare."

"Don't count on it."

"I'm friends with Loghain, the king and queen?"

"Hmmm... I don't know. I'd just be careful. Sometimes they smite first and ask questions later." He smiled at her. "I'd hate for anything to happen to someone as refreshingly weird as you are." He paused for a moment. "So... I have to ask, I just have to. I know it probably isn't any of my business but... is Teyrn Loghain your baby's father? You seemed rather happy to see him."

She smiled broadly. "Yes, you're right." She got up from her chair and walked to the door.

He beamed at her. "So he is?"

"No, you're right, it's none of your business!" She opened the door, flashed another smile at him and left.

He smiled to himself. _Maker, she's cute._ Then he thought about that name he had seen tattooed above her heart: Riordan. So who was that?

He closed his eyes and sighed happily. This wasn't bad really. He had a home, freedom of sorts, good food, his very own bedroom and now he had some interesting new powers from the Joining. He thought back to the night when the Commander had explained her lack of hair in her nether region. "Use your imagination," she said. So he did exactly that.

**Oghren**

"So, Oghren! Welcome to the Grey Wardens." Lucy slapped him congenially on the shoulder. "You probably pretty much know everything about us, don't you?"

"Yup. I can sense darkspawn, hard liquor and horny women now."

Lucy snorted. "Well, darkspawn anyway."

"I thought Riordan could sense you."

"Grey Wardens can sometimes sense one another, it takes training. I'll try to teach you later."

"Okay then, horny men and women," he said.

"Um... right. If you can sense liquor then you must've had that skill before. What else do you know?"

"We have, heh, a _lot _of stamina." He snickered obscenely and made a thrusting motion with his pelvis.

"Er, yes. Our strength and stamina is improved, which makes us especially good combatants."

"Heh... and good in the sack too. When do we get to march in a parade? I want to see women throwing their panties at me."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "I'm beginning to question your motivation for joining, Oghren."

"What? I like killing darkspawn too."

"Well, good. You know about the archdemon thing – Warden who kills it dies and all. Except me..."

"Yeah, sure, but we're fresh out of archdemons so I'm not too concerned." His stomach emitted a tremendous growl. "Hey... that must be that legendary Grey Warden appetite kicking in."

Lucy nodded. "Right, you'd best go to the kitchen and eat something."

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

"But first... there's one small matter I'd like to discuss with you." She pulled him back from the door. "I need to count on your discretion. There are a lot of people who might be very interested in finding out about things that happened during the Blight in order to discredit me."

"Well, sure. I won't tell anyone you're not from this world. You already got me to swear an oath on that way back when."

"Also... I need your discretion about other... personal matters."

Oghren scratched his beard. "Like what? Whether the rug matches the curtains? What sort of soap you prefer to use?"

"Hm... about my personal relationships with the others in our travels and in Denerim."

"Commander, you know subtlety doesn't work on me... best just come out with it, girl."

"Oh, for Maker's sake... who I slept with! Must I spell everything out?"

Oghren laughed. "Ah naw, I just wanted to hear you say it. Don't worry, my lips are sealed. Rabid nugs couldn't drag it out of me."

She frowned and shook her head. "I'm just concerned you might get a little intoxicated and those rabid nugs might get to those lips of yours."

"Never happen! Berserker's honor." He spat on his hand and held it out.

Lucy looked at his spittle imbued hand for a moment and then shook it gingerly. "Okay, I'm trusting you, Oghren! Now get to the kitchen and get some grub."

"Aye-aye ser!"

Lucy watched him go. "Maker, help me," she muttered.

**Nathaniel**

Lucy held her first audience with her vassals. The other Wardens were invited to attend. Nathaniel watched her closely. She kept Varel close to her and he was constantly whispering in her ear. She had no idea what she was doing. It puzzled him. Elissa had surely seen her parents do exactly this sort of thing from the time she was a very young child. He knew that her father was grooming her to run the teyrnir; surely at her age she would have a good grasp of the protocols, but she was clearly fumbling.

He stood off to one side, content to sip at a glass of the wine that was being served. It was an excellent vintage from 12 Dragon, some from the Vigil's own vineyard. Anders and Oghren were swilling it down. He grimaced and shook his head at them. He couldn't believe the odious dwarf had been one of the Blight companions. It was a wonder such a motley group had managed to kill something as powerful as an archdemon.

In the week since he'd been recruited he'd begun to hear the stories he missed while he was in the Free Marches. Lucy wasn't just the slayer of the archdemon, she had slain some other dragon as well, crowned a king in Orzammar, recruited the large armies required to save Denerim, and she had prevented a civil war. There were other rumors as well, particularly salacious ones about her and Teyrn Loghain. He'd missed seeing him while he was imprisoned, but the staff said that Loghain had been here for the birth of her child.

That sounded more like the Elissa he'd known. She was ever ambitious; short of marrying the king it made sense she'd set her cap for the other Teyrn. But the child... that didn't fit. Surely Loghain would have married her if it was his. He had caught a glimpse or two of the babe. It had black hair like Loghain's. It was conceivable.

He was so lost in his speculations about Elissa that he didn't see the woman approach him.

"It _is_ puzzling, isn't it?" Bann Esmerelle murmured to him. "She seems nothing like I remember. That girl was politically cunning and carried herself like a queen. She was her father's right hand when it came to running the teyrn. Perhaps the stories were overblown, but now she seems..."

"Barely competent?" Nathaniel said.

Esmerelle snickered nastily. "I dare say, I couldn't have said it better." Esmerelle took her eyes off the fumbling Cousland girl and looked at Nathaniel. "I hear you've become a Grey Warden yourself. You surprise me. I wouldn't have thought after what she did to your father..."

"It wasn't a choice," he said tersely.

"Conscription? Oh my... perhaps she's bolder than I give her credit for."

He snorted into his wine glass and took another sip.

"You know your father and I were quite close. I'm sure he would have wanted me to look out for your interests, Nathaniel. While I don't think the Wardens is the right place for you, there's nothing I can do about it just yet, but perhaps in time..."

He looked at her, wondering what she was prattling on about.

"I think we might be able to help each other out," she continued. "Perhaps you can tell me what she's up to and I can elevate your position here."

Nathaniel raised an eye and looked at her appraisingly.

"She does look like she could use the help of someone that knows what he's doing. Someone she could trust, confide in..." the Bann trailed off. "Someone like you, my dear Nathaniel."

She wanted him to spy on her, provide her with information for whatever she was planning. It was an interesting thought. "Perhaps."

Esmerelle pressed something into his hand. "I know your father would have wanted you to have this. Think about what I've said, Nate." She smiled at him and walked off to talk to someone else.

Nathaniel looked at what she had given him. It was his father's signet ring. The one he'd always seen on his father's finger. _Where did she get this__?_

"_Don't touch that." A hand clenched his and pried his little fingers open. His father looked down on him, a scowl on his face. "This ring was handed down the Howe line from King Calenhad to me. Someday it will belong to your brother. This is no toy."_

The memory came back so suddenly and unexpectedly he nearly dropped the ring, instead he stared at it. Thomas, the heir apparent, was dead. Father was dead. Delilah was gone, probably dead. Who else was there to claim this ring? It was his by rights, as was the Arling. He stuffed the ring into his pocket and stuffed the memory away too. Father had always preferred Thomas, the drunkard. There was irony in that. Now he was the heir, or should be. The child Father never approved of, whom he had sent away. Perhaps father, wherever he was, would finally approve of him.

Lucy had moved out of his sight but he heard her voice speaking quietly to a noble, Ser Tamra, the petite blonde. He moved closer but stayed behind a pillar.

"Some of the nobles here seek to end your dominion over them," Tamra told her.

"Hm. You're certain of this?" Lucy asked.

"I wish I was less certain, ser. I've intercepted some missives. They are cryptic things. Any individual message is unintelligible, but put together they form a pattern. They mean to end you before you can begin. A deadly coalition."

"Well, that's disturbing, if not altogether surprising. Do you have any idea of why?"

"Some of the nobles were very fond of Arl Howe. He was very good to those who were loyal and followed him unquestioningly. They know they won't fare so well under you and, if their past deeds come to light, they might fare poorly, indeed, if someone had a mind to see justice done."

"Really? Well... could you bring me these missives?" Lucy asked.

"Given a few days, I can retrieve them. I would've brought them tonight but I didn't know if warning you would be wise. I have much to lose and precious little to gain."

"If you fear for your life, you could stay here with us until this is resolved," Lucy offered.

"No, that's not necessary. We will meet again soon."

Nathaniel pressed his back further against the pillar to avoid being seen by Tamra when she passed.

_Interesting, _Nathaniel thought. _Perhaps this was what Bann Esmerelle was hinting at. They mean to kill her._ He thought of how he felt about it and found himself strangely sympathetic. She simply had no clue as to what she was doing; still, he nursed a molten nugget of hatred for her. All four wheels of her carriage were going to come off and it would be entertaining to watch the wreck.

"She's quite something, isn't she?"

Anders' voice startled him. He jumped and spun around to see the congenial mage behind him. He wondered how long he'd been there, long enough to see him eavesdropping? He collected himself. "Do you believe her story?"

Anders nodded slowly, a strange smile on his lips. "Yes. She's definitely not from around here. Why? Don't you?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "I knew her, Elissa. She's definitely different, but it could have been the trauma of the Blight. Maybe she was hit on the head one time too many. Perhaps she's just insane."

The mage shook his head. "No, that's not it. She's not from here."

Nathaniel snorted. "Oh, come on, how can you tell?"

Anders grabbed his wrist and sent a pulse of healing magic into him. "Everyone feels a certain way when I touch them with my magic... except her. There's something completely different. She tries to avoid letting mages touch her because often we can tell there's something off."

"Then Elissa Cousland really was possessed by... her? How do you know it isn't a demon?"

"Well, I've never heard of a demon being so human-like, have you? She doesn't feel like a creature from the Fade. You'd have to be a mage and go through your harrowing to understand. We actually have to fight a demon."

Nathaniel sipped from his glass and watched her talking to the nobles.

"She looks rather fetching in that gown, don't you think?" Anders looked as if he were trying to mentally peel it off her. "Hard to believe she had a baby a handful of days ago."

"Hm. I suppose so." Was the mage smitten with her? "Rumor has it the father is Teyrn Loghain, what have you heard?" Perhaps he could coax some details from the mage.

Anders shrugged. "She won't say. They..." His voice dwindled off. "Ah, I see Oghren has found something a little more amusing to drink. Let's go join him."

Nathaniel cursed. Anders sounded like he might have had some inside information and thought better about saying anything. He followed Anders over to where Oghren was standing with a decanter of some sort of amber liquid. Perhaps a little more drink could lubricate his lips. He joined the dwarf and the mage in lifting a glass to their attractive, young commander.

~o~o~o~

**Notes: **My thanks for all the reviews! Wow, feels amazing to get 24 review on my first chapter. You guys rock! Overall the comments I got on the perspective changes were positive, so I think I'll stick with that. Fortunately Biff keeps my perspective straight. Every now and then I'll get the wrong voice during one of my changes.

I have to thank Arsinoe in particular for pointing out that Lucy having a bastard would be a terrible stain on the Cousland name. It provided some fertile thoughts, so to speak, for future drama. Lucy is pretty oblivious about such things. She'd really hate feeling like she was pressured into something by nonsensical societal norms, or some such. Maybe she thinks she can change such customs.

My thanks to my reviewers, to Zevgirl for her feedback and especially to Biff McLaughlin who beta-reads so well.


	3. Avoid Fraternization With Subordinates

**Avoid Fraternization With Subordinates**

**Loghain**

The horses thundered into the palace courtyard. Loghain and his guards dismounted into the mud left behind by the recent rain. Stable hands were waiting to take their horses and led them off. Loghain took a quick report from Cauthrien and then jogged up the stairs to the palace. Anora had gone into labor late last night.

He rushed to his room and cleaned up quickly, then strode to Anora's rooms. Alistair was sitting outside her bedroom, his face looking exhausted and pinched with worry.

"How is she?" Loghain asked anxiously, realizing for the first time that if anything happened to Anora, Alistair would be ruling alone. He felt his stress level ratchet up a few notches at the thought.

"They say she's doing all right, it's just taking a long time." Alistair stood up and clasped Loghain's arm in a friendly greeting.

"It does for the first one." Loghain reassured him. "Well, usually. Lucy's came quickly."

"Lucy had her baby?" Alistair looked up, excitement on his face. "Should I congratulate you?"

Loghain shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. He does resemble me though. I will claim him as mine if she'll let me."

"A boy then." Alistair frowned. "Why wouldn't she let you claim him?"

"She has some odd notions, you know how she is. She wants the babe to grow up without titles or responsibilities. She says there's no shame in it. I suppose if she were inhabiting the body of almost anyone else, that would be true, but she's supposed to be Elissa Cousland. I can only imagine what her brother... her... well, what Fergus is going to say when he hears."

Alistair bit his thumb, his forehead creased. "What if she said it was Riordan's? A dead hero. There's no shame in that. I could put it about that they were married before he died."

He tilted his head, pursing his lips. "There have been rumors about us though."

Alistair sighed and shook his head. "Why doesn't she just marry you? I know she cares for you."

"It's the elf. She loves him."

"So she's heard from him? He's still alive?"

Loghain snorted. "No, she hasn't heard from him. Alive? How can he be, going into the midst of a hive of assassins, but I wasn't about to say that to her."

Alistair nodded. "Zevran's good, very good even, but I agree, I don't see how he could survive that. Well, give her time to accept it, perhaps she'll come around."

"In the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to put out the rumor about her being wed to Riordan. I could still adopt her... _our_ son."

Loghain described how the Arling had been attacked by darkspawn and how Lucy had fought them even while in labor. "A true Ferelden lass," he said without thinking of her true origin. "That girl is made of something tougher than silverite."

"She'd have your head off if she heard you calling her a girl." Alistair chuckled.

"True." He smiled thinking back on several occasions when she'd reacted to him calling her a girl.

They spent most of the day waiting. As suppertime neared, the midwife finally came to the sitting room. "Your majesty, you have a son."

Alistair and Loghain cheered and slapped one another on the back and then they went in to see Anora.

Somehow his daughter managed to appear beautiful and unruffled after a dozen hours or more of laboring. Seeing her face light up when Alistair walked into the room, he began to think that the Chantry boy wasn't so bad after all.

The baby looked like both his parents; fair skinned with pale hair. It only remained to be seen whose eyes he inherited, but Loghain was betting they'd be blue. "Did you decide on a name?" he asked.

"Calenhad," Anora said, gazing at her baby adoringly. She looked up at her father. "Do you like it?"

"Calenhad, the first king of Ferelden. The uniter of the Clayne. That's quite a name to live up to." Loghain rubbed his unshaven cheek, considering. "But I'm sure he will. It's a good name."

Alistair picked up his swaddled son carefully and looked into his face almost worshipfully. "Calenhad! That's a big name for such a little guy. I'm going to call you Cal, okay?"

Loghain approved. Calling him Calen would be far too close to Cailan's name for comfort. "He's a handsome lad, Anora. How do you feel?"

Anora smiled. "Tired but otherwise well."

"I have news for you too, Anora. You have a little brother," Loghain said.

Her eyes widened. "Really? You were only in Amaranthine for a few days. It must have been recent."

He nodded. "She named him Daniel. He looks like me." Loghain smiled at the thought of his son.

"So, I'm a new mother and a new sister." She smiled at her father. "The name, I assume she named him after the other Grey Warden. What a lovely tribute to a fallen hero."

"Yes... lovely," Loghain said dryly. At least she hadn't outright given him his name.

"And Lucy is well?" she asked.

"Very well, considering she had to fight darkspawn while in labor. She had a skilled healer attending to her." Loghain felt pride at thinking of all she did. If there was ever a woman to demonstrate the toughness and fortitude of Ferelden it was Lucy. She was no hothouse rose that needed careful nurturing to flower. His daughter, however, was another story. She hadn't had to face those sorts of rigors.

Anora's eyes widened. "Maker's mercy! I can't even begin to imagine... how could she?"

"Grey Warden stamina, my love," Alistair said looking up from the bundle in his arms.

"Hm... it was that Grey Warden stamina that brought about this sweet miracle," Anora said, her eyes glowing.

Loghain coughed to remind the pair he was still in the room, but he left shortly so the new family could spend time alone. He went to his room to rest from his travels. He spent the evening thinking about what to do to save Lucy's reputation and protect their son. He decided he simply had to make her see reason.

**Varel**

"Do you have a few moments to chat, Varel?" Lucy found him in his study, examining the arling's accounts.

"Of course, Commander. Do come in and have a seat."

Lucy came in and shut the door behind her. "Please, call me Lucy. I'm not big on formality." She held what looked like a letter in her hand and took a seat next to his desk.

He smiled and nodded his agreement. "I had heard that is your nickname."

She shook her head. "No, not my nickname. It is my name. Well, it is short for Lucille, but no one ever calls me Lucille. I'm Lucy Woodridge, actually. I'm an imposter. I'm not Elissa Cousland, well, not the part of me that calls me _"me"_... if you follow."

Varel stared at her and shook his head slowly. "No... Lucy, can't say as I am following."

"You might need a little somethin'-somethin' to get through this. Let me pour you a drink." She got up and went over to the decanter and poured a generous measure of amber liquid into a glass and handed it to him.

Varel stared at her still trying to puzzle out what she had said. She launched into an explanation of who she really was and he gulped down his drink wondering if the new Warden-Commander was a mad-woman or, even worse, was she possessed? _Such a shame, an attractive, young thing with a vibrant future before her. What sort of trauma had she suffered during the Blight to cause such delusions?_

Her explanation sat on the surface of his mind, the words not really sinking in. Something about an ancient, powerful mage, and Lucy and Elissa exchanging bodies... and so on.

Lucy sighed. "Here, just read this." She handed him the letter she was carrying.

He examined it. It had the seal of the Weisshaupt Wardens. He opened it and read. His hand shook ever so slightly as it all began to penetrate. "So you're truly not Elissa Cousland?"

"Truly not."

"Maker... I suppose this is why you were so lost at the meeting with the nobles yesterday?" He handed back the letter.

She nodded. "I can count on your discretion?"

He nodded. "Of course... Lucy."

"I'm completely clueless as to how to run the Arling. I thought I'd be spending the next four years raising my child and working at my toilet factory. I really, really need your help Varel."

Her frustration and hopelessness pulled at his heartstrings. "I can do as much or as little as you desire." She looked so lost. He felt sorry for her having to leave a life behind in Denerim and give birth in the midst of the chaos here. "I know the nobles have made a lot of demands on you, but Captain Garevel and I can certainly help."

She smiled wanly. "Thank you, Varel. I'm going to go to Amaranthine in the morning. I'll take the other three Wardens with me. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone... it depends on what we find. I just..." Her eyes grew red and her lip trembled. "I just... I don't want to leave Daniel." Her self-control suddenly crumbled and she started sobbing openly. "Oh, god," she gasped between sobs, "I'm so sorry."

"Hush. No need to apologize." He came over to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "No young mother should be torn away from her baby like this." He handed her a clean handkerchief. "I know Iveta is an excellent nurse. Your boy will be well taken care of. I'll see that he is fine."

"Do you have children, Varel? A wife?"

He could see she was trying to change the subject to get her mind off leaving her baby. "I had a wife. Unfortunately she and our child died in childbirth."

"Oh Maker, I'm sorry, Varel." The tears sprung up in her eyes again. "Here I am complaining when..."

He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "It's all right, Lucy. It was many years ago. I never did get around to remarrying."

She took a deep breath and collected herself. "I really have to get it together. It seems like everything makes me weep these days."

"That's the way it is with new mothers, I hear."

"Yes, I suppose so. My hormones are crazy."

"My lady?" Varel asked, her curious about her last statement.

"Um, I just mean the pregnancy has left me somewhat melancholic."

"Ah, yes. Your humours are out of balance. They will return to normal soon, I am certain. Perhaps an herbalist could assist you?"

"Yes, my humor has left me almost entirely."

"No. The vapours rising to your head affect your humours," he explained patiently.

She smiled belying her last comment. "I couldn't help playing with the word. In my world we have other explanations for mood disorders."

"Mood disorders..." he mused. _An interesting concept that one's mood could be in a disorder. Rendon Howe certainly had a disorderly mood, one that was very choleric. _"I will have to remember that."

"Speaking of mood disorders, it seems that some of the nobles are plotting something ugly against me." Lucy explained all that Ser Tamra had told her.

Varel's forehead knitted with concern. He felt such empathy for this woman and all that she had endured. "Do you know the conspirators? The right of high justice is yours and treachery is a capital offense."

She shook her head. "No, Ser Tamra is going to retrieve the documents. Perhaps we can piece it together once we have them."

"Ser Tamra is a sly one, but knowledgeable about such things. Better to be a touch paranoid than turning up face down in a ditch."

Lucy bit on her knuckle. "Face down in a ditch... Thanks for that imagery. I won't sleep tonight." She looked worried. "Face up – not great, but it's the face down part that..." She shuddered. "What if there's mud and water in the ditch... maybe leeches or centipedes? Then I'll be remembered as Face-down-in-the-ditch Lucy, the one they found with a giant centipede eating her face off."

Varel wondered for a moment if this woman truly did slay the archdemon; surely she had faced death before. Perhaps it was her disorderly mood affecting her. "Dead is dead, I always say."

She gave a nervous laugh. "Of course, I'm being silly. It's those vapours, I'll bet. So, what can we do to help ensure my baby isn't made an orphan right off the bat by one of these choleric nobles?"

"There are options. Some I would not recommend, they could turn the nobles fierce."

"Such as?"

"We could have some soldiers spy on the nobility. I suppose that might bear fruit." It was a distinct long-shot, he knew that. "There are also rumors of someone called the "Dark Wolf" who gathers information for a fee. Dangerous fellow, by all accounts."

"So dangerous nobles or dangerous underworld guy? I get to choose my danger. Anything else?"

"You could invite a member of each of the noble families to stay as prolonged _guests. _And if anything untoward happens... well, you get the picture."

Lucy chuckled. "Sounds like a polite word for hostages. I like it, it's polite and yet devious."

"It's a terribly Orlesian thing to do."

She chewed on her lip a moment. "I can't keep a small army of noble hostages forever. Someday they'll go back to their families and I'll be vulnerable again. Soldiers don't make great spies. It would be awkward if they're discovered. I could do the spying myself but I've got too much going on. How do I contact this Dark Wolf?"

Varel smiled at her, reassured she was making the right decision. She had a good head on her shoulders, even if it seemed a tad addled from time to time. "I think I might be able to get word to him. Leave it to me."

A look of relief spread across her face. "Thanks, Varel."

"Have you decided how you want to deploy your soldiers?"

She nodded. "I'll just have to spread them thinly. We'll send some to Amaranthine and some to Eddelbrek's freeholders and whoever is left will protect the trade." She thought for a moment then brightened. "Maybe Alistair would send me some soldiers. I should write to him. Loghain too."

"If I might be so bold, could your brother send you some soldiers? He is your liege and as such is responsible for protecting his vassals."

Her face drained of blood. "Oh, Maker," she groaned. "Fergus is my liege? Tell me you're not serious." She began to gnaw at her knuckle again.

"Ah, I forgot he's not really your brother, is he? Is there a problem?"

She nodded, her brows furrowed. "He hates me. I'm a big, fat inconvenience. He would prefer that I had died in the Blight."

"Ah, he must resent that you... usurped his sister's body."

"No. I think he is actually glad that Elissa is out of the way so he could inherit the teyrnir. Apparently she was to be the heir. I'm just a wild card that he can't control." She laughed grimly. "And he's a wild card I can't control. He knows my secret. I think the only reason he doesn't blather to the Chantry about me is because I've got friends in high places. No, I think I'll be giving Fergus Cousland a wide berth."

Varel nodded. "I understand. The Couslands were always very image conscious, beyond reproach." He cleared his throat. "If I might pry – does he know you have had a baby?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, fortunately when we met I had only just discovered I was expecting."

Varel grimaced, mentally squirming at bringing up a delicate point. "I hate to point this out, but better that than being taken unawares. Your son might well end up inheriting the teyrnir unless Teyrn Fergus has another child. He might take it amiss." He paused, carefully picking his next words. "Especially if there might be some question of his legitimacy."

Lucy's mouth fell open. "Oh!" She rubbed at her forehead with her hand and blinked slowly. "I just wanted a simple life for us. I don't want him to have the responsibility of a teyrnir. If it should come up, I will simply tell him that."

He opened his mouth, about to suggest there might be quite a scandal involving her child if there was a question about his legitimacy, but Varel was a tactful man and he saw no polite way of framing it without being indelicate. He would think about it, find a way to suggest she might want to think of a way to secure her son's future. The nobility could be horribly petty and cruel, and they did so love to see their betters toppled. From their perspective, a fallen Cousland could be quite good sport.

"What are these toilets you mentioned earlier?" he asked, changing the subject to one he thought safer.

"Oh! Toilets are something we have in my world for... replacing latrines and such. They're much more sanitary and smell much better. I've got a factory in Denerim working on them. We should have six of them being delivered before too long."

"Really?" Varel looked very interested. "What do you do with the... err, waste?"

For the first time since he'd met her, her face really lit up. "It is composted into a very rich, organic material and can be used to fertilize crops and gardens. It has caught on in Denerim and the orders are pouring in, unfortunately we're limited as to how many we can make. The process is rather slow."

"Why don't you think about manufacturing them here too? The arling could always use more jobs. Perhaps in the city?"

She nodded slowly taking in his words. "A very interesting idea! As soon as things settle down here a little, I will look into that. Although, I must confess, I'm not overly fond of Bann Esmerelle. Perhaps it was my imagination but I think she didn't like me."

Varel suppressed a smile. "It might be an accurate assessment. She was rather close to Howe. Some say intimately so."

"Do you suppose she might be the one behind the conspiracy?"

He nodded. "It wouldn't surprise me. Still, one must have solid proof."

"Yes, I'd hate to punish the wrong person." She got up from her chair and stretched. "Well, I suppose I should go to bed. Thank you, Varel, for everything."

"It is my pleasure, Lucy," he said smiling. It was, too. She was a charming woman and rather extraordinary.

**Nathaniel**

"Maker, take me now," Nathaniel groaned. His eyes cracked open slowly. It was still dark, but the sky was lightening in anticipation of dawn. Oghren's "more amusing drink" had done this to him. He tried to out-drink the dwarf in the hopes of getting some dirt on Lucy, but the weird little man had an amazing tolerance for alcohol.

He pushed himself up on his elbows; his head spun and his stomach lurched with the effort. He carefully crawled out of bed and splashed cold water on his face. Some of his nausea went away and he began to feel more alert. He dressed slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements that would make his head hurt. As he got dressed he reviewed the previous evening, what he remembered of it. Anders had chattered about the Circle and Oghren had told stories of the Blight. He remembered when Anders brought out a pipe and filled it with an herb that smelled rather sweet when it burned.

"_Oh no, you're not smoking in here!" _Lucy had scolded them.

She had sent them outside and they huddled under an overhang, out of the dripping rain, and passed the pipe around. That's when everything got extremely funny. The three of them were laughing so hard they'd fallen to the ground, holding their sides, gasping for air. After that it all became a blur. Had Anders or Oghren ever revealed anything? He searched his memory... nothing. He had nothing more than what he started the night out with.

He finished getting ready. At least he remembered that today they were going to the city, Amaranthine. He wasn't looking forward to the trip in this condition. He stumbled down the stairs to the great hall and saw Lucy and Oghren waiting. Anders ran down the stairs a moment later.

Lucy turned to them and looked at them. "Maker, Nathaniel, are you all right? You look like hell."

Oghren snickered. "Lad tried to out-drink me last night."

She turned to Oghren and shook her head. "And you did nothing to discourage that? I hold you responsible if his condition delays us today."

Oghren shrugged. "Twitchfinger seems to have handled it. I thought he'd be puking for sure this morning."

"Twitch...?" Lucy looked puzzled. "Oh, Anders?"

Everyone turned to look at Anders. He shrugged. "I healed myself."

"Ah!" Lucy said. "Would you teach me that spell? I think it might come in handy with the lot of you."

Anders nodded. "Gladly, Commander." He turned to Nathaniel and cast a spell that made him glow a lovely shade of blue for a moment.

Nathaniel immediately felt well again. "My thanks, Anders."

Anders nodded. He cast another spell and Nathaniel felt a surge of energy.

Nathaniel grinned. The mage was talented and useful. That herb they had smoked had certainly been entertaining. "My thanks, again."

"Anything for a brother," Anders replied.

"Well, shall we get going? It's a couple of hours by horse to Amaranthine." Lucy shouldered her pack and started to the door.

"Horse?" Anders and Oghren said together.

Lucy stopped and turned around. "Ah... I bet neither of you ride. I completely forgot about that. I admit I'm a poor rider myself." She turned to Nathaniel. "Do you ride?"

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "Of course." _Hm. Elissa was a very good rider. _Nathaniel was becoming more convinced that Lucy's story was true. Anders was certainly convinced.

"All right, here's what we'll do. Nathaniel and I can both ride and you two will climb up behind us. The mare I rode here from Denerim was very patient with my abilities. I can ride her and Anders will ride with me. That shouldn't be too much for her. You two can ride that big gelding."

They headed for the door but Lucy stopped when Iveta came down the stairs holding a bundle wrapped in a small blanket.

"I thought you might like to say goodbye to him now that he's awake," the wet-nurse said.

Lucy made a small noise in her throat and shut her eyes a moment. She walked over to them, took her son and murmured something softly to him. She kissed him and handed him back to the nurse. She hesitated a moment then turned back and joined the others.

Nathaniel saw her eyes glittering and her nose looked pink. He recognized the signs of unshed tears.

Oghren laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You'll be back to your nug in no time, Commander. The sooner we leave the sooner we'll be back."

She inhaled deeply. "True, that. Let's go."

They went to the stables and the stable hand had four horses ready for them. Lucy picked out the two they wanted and they took a third for their bags.

The trip to Amaranthine was uneventful. Anders and Lucy chatted companionably, laughing occasionally. He was teaching her the hangover curing spell as they rode. Nathaniel couldn't help but notice how Anders flirted with her. _Skirt chasing mage, _he thought with disgust. The commander seemed to disregard all customs about fraternizing with her recruits. She had an easy, friendly way with everyone except him. He would have to work on that. He wanted to be sure to have a front row seat when she crashed and burned. Bann Esmerelle's offer was also tempting.

Nathaniel spurred his horse and rode closer to the pair of apostates and made an effort to join in the conversation despite his inclinations to withdraw. He was rewarded with the flash of a smile from Lucy. It would not be difficult to gain her trust. He was almost disappointed, he had hoped for more of a challenge.

**Lucy**

The meeting with the nobles created a to-do list as long as the archdemon's intestines. I could see that it was all going to take me away from the keep and Daniel. I would have killed to be able to have someone to delegate it all to. It crossed my mind that Nathaniel would make a good candidate, but obviously not while he hated my guts. I just had to give him time. Anders, I ruled out. His experience wasn't in leading people. He was intelligent, witty and very charismatic, but he didn't seem like a leader. Nathaniel had probably been born and bred to the position. If it weren't for the fact his father was Rendon Howe, he would have been perfect for the job. There was always Oghren... No, on second thought there wasn't.

What happened to my life? Everything was going pretty well. Zevran and I were recovering from our loss of Riordan. We had grown closer, leaning on one another when the grief threatened to overwhelm us. My pet project was doing fantastically well and it looked like we might become wealthy. I had my friends around me and everything seemed almost perfect until Zevran left. From that day on it seemed that my life was deteriorating. Now I couldn't even spend time with my newborn son. Fate was being particularly cruel. I had tossed and turned last night considering running away with him. The only thing that kept me here was my concern that Zevran might return and he wouldn't be able to find us.

We got to Amaranthine in good time. The incessant rain had let up, although the roads were horribly muddy. My mare, Buttercup, was a sweet, placid girl. I hadn't told any of my recruits about my shape changing abilities. There would be time for that once we got to know one another better and they trusted me a little more. As it was, I was practically an abomination to Nathaniel. I didn't need to give him any more reason to be suspicious of me.

I was encouraged when he rode close to us and actually joined in the conversation. He seemed to be developing a friendship with Anders. I wondered if it had something to do with the herb that Anders had passed around last night. I was going to have to ask him about that. Just my luck, my recruits would be a bunch of pot-heads, although if I weren't nursing I might have joined them. Then I remembered I wasn't nursing now. That sent me back into a spiral of depressing thoughts. I thought about the cabbage leaves that Iveta had insisted I stuff into my breast band. It would help with the discomfort of having full breasts, she told me. She'd also shown how me to express milk with my hands. If things got too uncomfortable I could do that, but not too much. I had to let it dry up.

Anders seemed so happy to be free of the Circle and out of the reach of the templars. It was a joy to see him so delighted over such a simple thing as being outside and able to go where he wanted. He began to teach me the hangover cure and I showed him how I could make steam come out of my ears and nose. We laughed a little about Wynne and her preachy ways. I told him how she had cursed me once, and got him to promise to teach me some curses.

When we got to Amaranthine we started working on the to-do list. It grew by leaps and bounds when we talked to the people we needed to talk to. It looked like we now had to go to the Wending Woods and to some place west of the keep where two fellows had seen darkspawn coming out of a chasm in the ground. Then the captain of the guard told us they were plagued by smugglers and asked for our help with them. I wondered why Bann Esmerelle hadn't handled it, but I agreed to help.

Before we started on the list we went to an inn and reserved rooms for the night and ate our noon-time meal. That's where we discovered information leading to the whereabouts of Kristoff, a Warden who was away from the keep when the darkspawn had attacked. Yet another item on the to-do list.

Anders ran into a sour looking elven woman who had helped him on one of his escape attempts. There seemed to be a certain element of bitterness to the woman, like she harbored something of a grudge toward him, but she told him that his phylactery was in the city and where to find it.

"Phylactery?" I asked him, the term wasn't familiar to me.

He grimaced. "It's a vial of blood the templars use to track you down. If I destroy it, I'm free of them forever. Can we go check on it?"

I added that to the to-do list too. I wondered if we'd get back to the keep before Danny turned five.

We took some time out of the day to go shopping. I gave each of the men a couple of sovereigns to purchase what they might like. Varel had given me a list of things I should purchase. I did that and arranged to have them delivered. I saw a knitted scarf which I purchased for Anders. I remembered he had been complaining about the drafts in the keep. I saw some intricate locksmith tools and thought how Nathaniel had broken into the keep. I hoped he would find amusement in the gift. I found a bottle of "MacKay's Epic Single Malt" for Oghren. Oghren was the easiest person in the universe to buy a present for.

I poked around through the stalls and nearly screamed with joy when I found a man with a distinct Antivan accent selling chocolate and coffee. He gave me a sample of his chocolate and it was just like I liked it, bitter-sweet, without too much sugar or any milk. He opened a bag of his coffee and I sniffed the beans. The aroma went straight to the pleasure centers in my brain.

I looked around, hoping no one would see my careless extravagance and spent ten whole sovereigns on buying out his entire stock. I paid another ten silver to have it delivered to me at the keep. I would save the chocolate for special occasions but I would have coffee every morning.

The vendor was beside himself with joy at having found someone who fully appreciated what he had to offer. "My lady, thank you!" he said, bobbing up and down in a little bow. "If you ever require more..."

I nodded vigorously. "Oh, I'm sure I will. Please let me know when you get another shipment."

"Yes, ser!" he said, still bobbing up and down. "I shall have more in a few weeks."

Now I regretted more than ever I hadn't gone to Antiva with Zevran. Ah well, I knew that would have been impossible given how dangerous it was and having Daniel along now. I hoped someday I'd get to at least Antiva City – he was always rabbiting on about how beautiful it was. I sighed, thinking about how much I missed him. I feared there was only one possible reason why he hadn't gotten word to me. In the midst of my happiness over finding coffee and chocolate, I nearly started to cry. I remembered that last night Riordan, Zevran and I had spent together in Fort Drakon and the kiss between the two men. My two beautiful lovers...

"Are you all right?"

Nathaniel's voice startled me out of my reverie and I pulled myself back together. "Yes. I'm fine." I needed to stay in the present. Now wasn't the time to mourn. I couldn't help but notice that Nathaniel's voice had lost that hard sardonic edge. I forced myself to smile. "I was just wool-gathering."

"Gathering wool?" He looked at me, presumably looking for wool. "It looks more like you were gathering Antivan imports."

I chuckled. Nathaniel really was thawing, this helped rally my spirits. "It's a saying where I'm from. It means being absent-minded or daydreaming."

"I see." We walked together a ways in silence. "When I daydream I usually don't look so sad."

"Hm... well, surviving the Blight wasn't exactly a story that ended with 'and they lived happily ever after', if you know what I mean." It sounded more bitter than I intended it sound.

Nathaniel looked at me and nodded. "I understand. Life hasn't gone exactly according to plan for you, me or Elissa." He stopped walking for a moment and took the bag of stuff I was carrying.

"I can carry that," I protested.

"I know you can." He didn't return it. "I'm sorry for how I treated you those first few days. I was an ass."

I couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. I would like for us to get along. I need..." I trailed off having caught myself before I was able to blurt out my desire for him to take more responsibility. It was way too premature. I was just so eager to delegate that I wanted to see everything good in him. I needed to be more patient, to make sure he was as capable as I wanted... needed him to be.

"What do you need, Commander?"

"I need food and perhaps a glass of good ale. What about you?" I also needed to put fresh cabbage leaves in my bra-thing and try to express some milk; my boobs were aching. "Let's go to the inn and get a bite to eat."

Nathaniel nodded and followed me. He even made conversation along the way.

_~o~o~o~_

We ended up staying three days in Amaranthine dealing with the incredibly long to-do list. I wrestled with whether or not we should head over to Wending Woods. Three days... three long torturous days away from my baby. All I wanted was to go back and see him. What if something had happened? What if he had a fever? I wouldn't be there to heal him or hold him. What if he couldn't go to sleep without me singing to him and telling him stupid little stories in a funny voice? I imagined a thousand ways my being away would lead to tragedy.

"The Grey Wardens family leave plan stinks," I muttered to Anders on the third day in the city. He and I were on our way to the building holding his phylactery. I'd asked the others to stay behind.

"Family leave? What is that?" he asked.

"In my world, well... in most civilized nations, a parent can take leave from their job to bond with their new child. Of course, I didn't tell them I was going to have a child, so I suppose I can't blame them... for that." I sighed and caught myself before I bad-mouthed the Grey Wardens more. I didn't need to poison my recruits against the order I'd inducted them into for a lifetime.

Anders looked at me. "You must miss him."

I nodded. "I keep thinking of all the things that might happen while we're gone and I can't do anything to protect him."

Anders stopped me and hugged me. "Stop it, Lucy. How much can we really protect those we love?"

I lost it and sobbed into his chest. "I've failed to protect so many..." I thought of Riordan, Zevran and so many others I'd lost.

He stroked my hair and shushed me. "You saved the country, perhaps even the world, Lucy. Iveta will take good care of Daniel, the woman oozes with competence. Varel is there too – talk about oozing competence! The man could probably run the country."

I nodded and choked back the sobs. "I know, I know. I just can't stop thinking about him being there without me. I should be there!"

He pulled out a handkerchief from somewhere and started wiping the tears off my face. "Come on, now, Lucy. You're an amazing woman, but you can't do it all yourself." He held the handkerchief to my nose. "Blow."

I laughed through my tears and pulled the cloth out of his hands. "I think I can blow my own nose, thank you."

"If you ask me, your child's father should be here with you. I mean... if he's around."

I looked up at him. "He's not." That's all I could say. I wasn't being much of a commander. I was breaking down and crying in front of my recruit, becoming friends with them, leaning on them emotionally. What did they call it... fraternization? Ah well, it worked well enough for us during the Blight. Decisions were made by consensus. Perhaps it would continue to work this time. I sucked as a commander and I knew it. The Grey Wardens had made a huge mistake putting me in charge.

"I think this evening you should try some of my herbal remedy for melancholia. It seemed to do wonders for Nathaniel."

I nodded. "You're right, he is much less prickly now." I shouldered my pack and gestured with my head. "Let's go."

~o~o~o~

Three dead templars laid in their congealing blood.

"A fucking trap!" Anders swore. He kicked at the templar, Rylock. "It figures. She's had it out for me since my fourth escape attempt. Every time she'd beg Greagoir to have me hung." He frowned at them. "I guess this time she was going to take matters into her own hands."

"I'm sorry your phylactery wasn't here. I might be able to get Alistair or Anora to petition the Chantry to retrieve it."

He smiled wanly. "I doubt it'll work, but I appreciate the effort." He began to laugh and then staggered against the wall and laughed even harder. "The look on Rylock's face when you started teleporting around the room and stabbing at them was priceless. Sweet Maker, how do you do that?"

I smiled wearily and showed him my necklace. "It's the lyrium in this necklace. I can draw on it, then I can step through the Fade." I had Fade-walked a half dozen times in the battle and I was severely fatigued. I staggered and had to sit on a wooden crate, my head in my hands.

Anders stood over me a moment looking concerned. "It takes a lot out of you. You should be careful with lyrium." He put his hand on the back of my neck and I could feel a spell restoring my energy. It tingled down my spine and my dizziness and fatigue dissipated.

"Thanks," I said. I got up. I was splashed with blood but he'd kept his distance from the melee and remained clean. "Great... I can't walk through town covered in blood. That's going to be a little suspicious when they find three dead templars with multiple stab wounds."

Anders frowned. "I didn't see any water in the warehouse."

"We were careful when we came in. No one saw us enter. If you can sneak out without being seen, I think we can pull this off. I'll just slip into something a little more feathery. When you get to the inn go to your room and open a window."

His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what I was going to do. I transformed into a crow and Anders watched me gape-mouthed. "Andraste's cun... tits! You've been holding out on me! Teaching me how to make steam come out of my nose when you can do that?"

I quorked at him and flew onto his shoulder.

"All right, let's get out of here." He opened the door slowly and looked around. No one was watching so he slipped out. I flew off his shoulder and watched him as he made his way to the inn. No one took undue notice of him. Once I saw he was inside I waited until he made it up to his room and opened the window, then I flew in.

"Maker, woman!" He watched me as I transformed back. "That's just so... fucking... amazing!"

I laughed at how avid he looked. "I hear the Chantry rather frowns on shape-shifting."

He nodded vigorously. "That'd be in realm of forbidden magics. They'd brand you a maleficar, for sure."

I looked around his room. "I should clean up this mess. May I wash up here?"

He nodded. "I'll give you some privacy."

"No, don't bother. I'm not stripping down entirely." I started to unfasten my chest piece. "I need someone to keep my mind off Daniel." _And Zevran. _I laid aside the cuirass and pulled off the padded tunic I wore under it and Anders started to laugh.

"What?" I asked, wondering what was so funny.

"What is in your breast band?"

I laughed too. I had forgotten about the cabbage leaves. "Cabbage leaves. Iveta said they would help with the discomfort in my breasts. I've got a stack of them in my backpack. They're getting a little wilty, I suppose I should buy some fresh ones."

"No, don't bother. I'm sure I can mix up something better than cabbage leaves. Some elf root and willow bark in a lanolin base should work."

I smiled. "That sounds better than cabbage leaves. Thank you." I splashed water on my throat and chest, and washed off the blood. I closed my eyes and splashed water on my face. "Did I get it all?"

Anders came closer and picked up a towel and damped it in the now pink water. "You missed a little here." He scrubbed at a spot in front of my ears then another spot on my neck.

Our eyes met and an electrical tingle shot through me. _Oh no, not again. _I saw his eyes drift down my throat, to my chest, and then to Riordan's name tattooed above my heart. He looked back into my eyes with a questioning look. "Is he why you're so sad?"

I nodded. I wasn't ready to talk about Zevran, so I let him believe it was just Riordan.

"In the Blight?"

"The archdemon killed him. He... jumped on his back and sliced through his wing. The archdemon would have done something awful to me if he hadn't." I couldn't help the tears, they started to flow yet again. "Danny fell."

"And you killed the archdemon," he said, quietly. He dug out another clean handkerchief and turned my face up and wiped my tears. When he finished he looked into my eyes for a long moment, then he moved closer.

Feelings, desires, things I hadn't felt since Zevran had left, sprang into being again. I didn't want to avert the kiss. I just wanted to lose myself. Forget... forget... forget the giant holes in my heart, forget everything. His lips were just about to meet mine when I pulled away. "I can't... Anders."

"I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"No, it's all right. I just... this isn't... I'm supposed to be the Commander. I haven't been acting very commanderly."

"Of course... Commander." He picked up my cuirass and rubbed at the blood with the wet towel while I scrubbed at my mail leggings with another damp towel. Neither of us spoke. An awkward moment stretched into what felt like an eternity.

He handed me the cuirass and I put it on. "Dinner in an hour, Anders. I have something to give you after dinner."

He grinned and an eyebrow went up inquisitively. "Oh? What? Do tell."

I was glad to see his sense of humor returning. "You'll just have to wait and see."

"And you will take my cure for melancholia, my dear Commander." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. "Doctor's orders."

"Yes, Dr. Anders." I shot him a smile and left.

When I went back to my room I decided I had one hour to decide whether we would go back to the Vigil or on to another place on the to-do list.

_~o~o~o~_

Dinner was nice. Everyone was in a pretty good mood. Three busy days, but we had accomplished a lot, despite our to-do list having doubled since we arrived. I decided we would return to the Vigil the next day. I simply couldn't stay away from Daniel any longer.

We four Wardens kept the kitchen staff hopping during our visit. They'd probably be glad to see us leaving. I decided I would send to the Warden Compound for the cook I'd left behind there and see if she would come to Amaranthine. She was an excellent cook. The current cook at the keep wasn't quite as good. I was determined that at the very least we would eat well and heartily whenever we could. I told the men about that and they approved enthusiastically, especially Oghren; he remembered how good the food had been.

After dinner Anders pulled out his pipe and packed it full of his "herb". I instinctively looked around looking for cops. "This stuff is illegal where I come from," I told them. "Are you sure we're okay smoking it here... in public even?"

Nathaniel laughed heartily. "You're the law in this part of the country, for the most part. If you do it, it's legal. Well, at least for you."

I laughed and shook my head. It was a difficult notion to get used to. "I guess it's all right as long as one doesn't try to drive... er, ride under the influence."

Anders lit the pipe and passed it to me. I took a hit, holding it in my lungs as I'd done so many decades before, in my wild youth. I passed it on to Oghren.

"It seems you know how to use this, Commander, even if it is illegal where you come from," Nathaniel noted.

I nodded and then exhaled a small nebula. "I was a rebellious youth."

Nathaniel took a hit and passed the pipe to Anders. "Was? You practically _are_ a youth," he croaked while trying to keep the smoke in.

"I was in my fifties before I was swept out of my world and into this one. In my youth, many of us experimented with drugs and... other things." _Sex and disco. _I changed the subject. My head was starting to float a little. Whatever the _medicine_ Anders was sharing, it was powerful. "I have prezzies."

"Prezzies?" Oghren said. "Could you translate that into the common tongue?"

"Presents." I pulled the bottle of booze out of my bag. It was wrapped in a pretty cloth bag with a drawstring at the top. "Here you are, Oghren. The vendor said it was older than the Maker and smoother than elven baby-butt."

Oghren grunted happily and unwrapped the bottle. "Why this is a fine gift!" He immediately sloshed some into his glass and swallowed it in one gulp. "That is smooth. Very smooth." He poured some for each of us. He raised his glass to me. "My thanks, Commander."

I took the pipe when it was my turn again and took another hit. Oghren's nose was starting to look extremely bulbous. I decided to give Nathaniel his present last. It might go over better if he were a little higher. I rummaged around in the bag and pulled out another pretty cloth bag. This one had Anders' scarf. "For you, Ser mage."

His eyes lit up. "Oooh, I can hardly wait to see what it is." He plunged a hand into the bag and pulled out the knitted scarf. "Ah! Cashmere isn't it?" He wrapped it around his neck. "This will certain help keep the drafts off my neck. Thank you, Commander."

Nathaniel took another hit and he seemed very relaxed. I held my breath as I rummaged through my bag and drew out a finely carved wooden box. "This is for you, Nathaniel." I pushed it across the table in his direction.

"A box. How thoughtful." A silly grin crooked at his mouth.

"Open it, the present lies within."

He opened the lid on the box and looked in. "Locksmith tools?" He cocked his head to the side and looked at me for a moment. Then he began to laugh. "Very amusing, Commander."

Nathaniel had been caught when he was trying to pick the lock on a door in the Vigil. I thought this gift might say, 'I trust you'. He was laughing and that pleased me greatly.

Anders looked at me puzzled. "Inside joke?"

I shrugged. "A companion from the Blight was quite talented at picking locks. It was a skill that came in handy. Nathaniel has displayed some aptitude and I just wanted to encourage his development of that skill." I deftly dodged the fact that it was the door to the master bedroom and his intent was killing me, if I had been there.

"I have something for you, Commander." Anders dug into a pocket on his robe a produced a jar. "The medicine we discussed this afternoon."

"Oh for my... right!" I took the jar from Anders and removed the lid and smelled it. It smelled nice. "I'll give it a try. Many thanks." I had a stupid grin on my face. The melancholia medicine was working. "Hey, do you have anything for allergies?" I remembered suddenly how I suffered when in an enclosed space with darkspawn.

"Allergies?" Anders asked. "What is that?"

"Sneezing, itchy eyes... that sort of thing. The darkspawn do that to me." I told them of the time we were sneaking around to get a look at the archdemon in the Deep Roads and I had sneezed and nearly drew Urthemiel to us.

Oghren laughed. "Yeah, you spent those weeks down there with a very red nose. I remember one fight where you spent the entire time in a sneezing fit. Stab, sneeze, stab, sneeze..."

Nathaniel sniggered at the story. That got Oghren into telling stories about the Blight, some of them a little embarrassing. I offered up the story of the fight in Haven, where I'd nearly been bested by an elderly priest who got lucky with his elbow to my nose. That got us all laughing hysterically. The other patrons in the bar were staring at us.

The herb pipe finally emptied and Anders filled it again and passed it to me. "No, thanks. I'd better get to bed, we have an early start tomorrow."

"Eh, doctor's orders, commander. Three more puffs."

My judgment wasn't the best at that point, so I stayed for three more tokes, but by then I couldn't feel my legs and my eyes wouldn't open. There was more hilarity when I confessed I couldn't open my eyes.

"I'm going to need help getting to my room," I complained.

Anders pushed back his chair and stood. "I'll help you."

Nathaniel got up. "I think I'd better chaperone this."

Oghren groaned. "I guess I'd better chaperone the chaperone."

We all three went upstairs to our rooms. I had an arm looped around Anders' and Nathaniel's necks and they half carried me up. The good news was that by the time we made it up the stairs my eyes had opened to little slits. They settled me on my bed and someone took my boots off. A blanket covered me and I was asleep before they even left the room.

_~o~o~o~_

I awoke the next morning, just before dawn. I felt better than I had since leaving Denerim. My perspective had been restored. Anders was right about what I needed. Who knew that getting high and laughing until my sides hurt was all that was needed to set me right? It also didn't hurt that we would be heading back to the keep and to Daniel. I washed up quickly and dressed. I decided on wearing armor again. The roads were none too safe.

I rubbed Anders' medicine into my breasts. They were painful to touch. I tried to express some milk, but I just couldn't get it to work. I'd have to live with it. I wondered how long it would take before my milk dried up.

Perhaps it was my improved mood, or an echo of the flash of desire I'd felt when Anders had nearly kissed me, but I shut my eyes and remembered a time Zevran had given me an Antivan massage. I'd been covered in slippery, musky smelling oil and his hands had glided over my body, fingers pressing into sore muscles and places not at all sore. My breath caught in a hitched exhalation. My hands peeled off my trousers and my smallclothes and I was naked again. I laid down on my bed and let the moment replay through my head while my lanolin covered fingers sought to relieve the growing tension. The erotic images that had been absent for so long, replayed and it wasn't long before I had to turn my head and bite the pillow to keep from crying out.

I languished for a few minutes before I hopped out of bed, feeling even better than I had before. I finished dressing and ran downstairs. Even with my unplanned diversion I was out of bed and ready before even one of the men had made it downstairs. I sat down and was about to order a large breakfast when the barkeeper came to me and handed me a message. "This came in this morning, not more than twenty minutes ago, Commander."

I thanked him and took the message. I didn't recognize the seal, it was a wolf's head. I popped it open and read the two terse sentences.

_Warden-Commander, meet me behind the Chantry before you leave. Come alone._

_Dark Wolf_

Hm... I wanted this "Dark Wolf's" help but I wasn't keen on meeting him alone. Still, if I took the others I might scare him off. How did he know we were leaving? I'd told the innkeeper so they'd be ready to feed us early in the morning. Well, perhaps this fellow was a decent spy after all.

I got up, ran upstairs and slid the note under Anders' door. At least someone would know where I had gone. Then I went into my room and threw open my window. I transformed into a crow and flew the short distance to the chantry, looking for anything suspicious. All I saw was a city guardsman in the alleyway behind the chantry. It seemed safe enough.

I landed in a recessed doorway and transformed back. The little hairs on my arms were standing on edge with my taut nerves. I walked out of the doorway and the guard, hearing my footstep, turned to watch me approach. Unlike most guards he wore full helm. It covered most of his face, just leaving his jaw uncovered. There were slits for his eyes, but I couldn't make them out in the pre-dawn darkness.

"Ser Wolf, I presume?" I asked.

His bucketed head bobbed. "Yes, Commander."

I extended my hand, not quite sure what to do when one met an underworld sort. Shake hands? Give a secret handshake? High-five?

He looked at it for a moment then took my gloved hand – I was wearing reinforced leather gauntlets – and brought it up to his lips and kissed it. Not that I could feel the kiss, it was symbolic, what with all the leather and metal between his lips and my fingers. Still, it was a rather gallant display and I blushed.

"Charming," he said dryly. "Not what I expected from the woman who slew the archdemon, and certainly not what I expected from your enemies' descriptions. From the tales they're spreading you're quite the tyrant, imposing harsh penalties on poor villagers whose only offense is the theft of a loaf of bread, or fishing illegally."

I reclaimed my hand from his, and felt my ire growing. "Really?" I paced in front of him and cursed colorfully. "I've been far too busy to harass anyone! I've only been in Amaranthine two weeks and much of that time I spent having my baby and recovering. So who is spreading these rumors? Do you know why I wanted to talk to you?"

He nodded again. "There's a conspiracy to bring you down. Murder, treachery, assassination, betrayal..."

"Well, murder and assassination are basically the same thing, but yes I get the idea. I need to know who is behind this conspiracy before they get a chance to act. I've been told you could get me that information."

He nodded. "Yes. Yes, I can. This won't be easy or cheap, but I can certainly bring you names."

"Names are good, but I need proof too."

"I can probably get you proof as well. It will be at great risk to myself, however..."

It sounded like he was bargaining the price up. "I'll bet danger is your middle name." It couldn't hurt to flirt a little. What little I could see of his face was rather nice. He had a cute cleft in his chin, and the whole mystery man thing was kind of hot. I felt my libido flaring back into action. I had a quick daydream of pushing him back into that recessed doorway and having my way with him, all very anonymously... except for the problem of him knowing who I was. _Sweet Maker! _It was like the time we went to Orzammar, when I was trying to be chaste and my libido seemed to be in overdrive. I suppose with the pregnancy over my body was getting back to its normal, excessively horny self.

"So, how much?" I pulled myself back from the daydream to ask.

"Fifty sovereigns."

"Fifty?" My voice went high and squeaky with indignation. "You've got no idea how strapped for money we are. The darkspawn... the rebuilding... Those dwarven engineers are draining us."

He chuckled. "Yes, the Arlessa is a pauper. My sympathies." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

It did sound absurd, but I was going to have to dig into my toilet money to pay his fee. It was simply a matter of pride to haggle him a little lower. People expected it here. "Could you see your way to forty?"

He shook his head and turned around, beginning to walk away.

"Forty five!" I shouted after him. "Forty five, and you can come to the keep and have dinner with the famous Grey Wardens of Ferelden."

"No... thank you." He continued to walk.

Dammit it all, I had to meet the only man in Ferelden unwilling to haggle. "All right, fifty!" I shouted at his back.

He stopped and turned. "Price has gone up now."

I whimpered slightly in protest but sighed, resigned to it.

"Fifty and a kiss."

I felt indignant and offended, but then I remembered my daydream of a few moments ago. Perhaps something of that brief fantasy had leaked past my perfectly composed features. Oh hell, who was I kidding? I should never play poker. "Right here? Under the Maker's very gaze?" I asked, stalling.

"I don't mind an audience," he said.

"All right, I agree to your terms." I began to reach for my coin purse but he advanced on me quickly and pushed me back against the alley wall. His mouth came down on mine, fast and hard. It was almost stolen from my fantasy from a few moments past. I shouldn't have, but I did; I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and let him plunder my mouth with his tongue. He broke off the kiss as suddenly as he started it and pulled away. I was breathing heavily and my legs were feeling a little weak.

"Thank you, Commander. Now the fifty sovereigns and I'll be on my way."

I fumbled for the purse on my belt and nearly spilled all of my coin trying to open it. I eventually got it opened and counted out the gold for him. "I've never had to pay for a kiss before," I quipped, finally recovering some of my wits.

"I hope it was worth it," he riposted.

"There was a surprising amount of enthusiasm for a professional," I parried and counter-attacked.

He chuckled. "I think you'll find all my services as rewarding."

"I do hope so." I dropped the gold into his awaiting hand.

"I'll be in touch, my lady." His mouth turned up on one side, and what little I could see of his face he looked smug.

I turned and left the alley behind the chantry. I didn't go far before I ran into Anders looking for me.

"There you are! I can't believe you went off alone by yourself to meet this creep. That was foolish and dangerous," he scolded me.

"I took precautions," I replied.

My answer didn't satisfy Anders; I got a stern lecture all the way back to the inn.

**Anders**

Lucy certainly seemed in a much better mood today. It was no easy task for him to sit behind her on the horse and find a place to cling to her. His hands wanted desperately to grab onto some part of her that would be entirely inappropriate, even given the heavy armor she was wearing. Strands of her wild hair were working lose from her braid and tickling his nose, making him want to bury his face in her neck. The torture continued for the three hours it took them to reach the keep.

He kept thinking back to the previous day and that moment that had passed between them. He was almost certain that he wasn't imagining that there had been a spark of something, like a tiny bolt of electricity. She had felt it too, he was certain... almost certain.

She dismounted, leaving Anders to give the horse to the stable hand, and ran up the front steps of the keep. A soldier tried to stop her to hand her a bundle of messages. She didn't even stop but grabbed them and thanked her.

Anders smiled, knowing how eager she was to see Daniel. He followed after her and went into the great hall. Iveta and Daniel had been waiting for her, along with Mistress Woolsey and Captain Garavel. There were several people trying to attract her attention but she was ignoring everyone around her except the baby. She dropped her backpack on the floor and took him into her arms.

Anders watched her face transform from eagerness to contentment. He went up a little closer to see the baby. He squirmed a little, his fist flailed at the air and he landed a perfect little punch on his mother's nose. She laughed. "This is the way you greet your Mom after her long absence? Danny, you break my heart."

He watched her turn to Iveta and chat and they walked up the stairs together, both of them completely focused on the baby.

"Give her a little time to settle in," Varel told the others who had been trying to get her attention. "She needs to spend a little time with her son."

Anders shouldered her backpack and trudged up the stairs. Her door was open so he walked through her sitting room and then put the backpack just inside her bedroom door. He gazed in at her for a moment. She was so absorbed in her son that she didn't see him. It was a charmed moment; she finally looked completely happy and it made his heart swell.

He shook his head, wondering at the strange emotion that was making his chest feel funny. The attraction he could understand. Of course he wanted to sleep with her, but this was something else... something he hoped he hadn't ruined by trying to kiss her the day before.

Anders handled it the only way he knew how. He went back to the great hall and found the prettiest serving wench and began to flirt with her, hoping he wouldn't have to go to bed alone that night.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Note: **__So, the chapters titles come from the imaginary book that Lucy probably would have liked to have had to help her out. That she's completely failing every lesson in the make-believe book is par for the course. :)_

_My thanks, as always, to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading. Do check out her stories, they're marvelous. _

_As always I adore hearing from you all with reviews!_

_The next chapter is well underway and contains more drama than a high school!_


	4. Justice: A Feudal Lord's Cash Crop

**Justice: A Feudal Lord's Cash Crop**

**Lucy**

I awoke early and slipped into the room adjoining mine. This was where my son and his nurse, Iveta, slept. I spent time holding my son. His sweet little body was so warm and fragrant. I liked to bury my nose in his soft neck and just breathe him in. Iveta was still sleeping and I didn't want to wake her, I knew she had been getting up all night long to nurse him, so I just silently basked in this quiet moment with my son. His eyes popped open and he looked at me. In my proud motherly imaginings, I could see a keen intelligence sparkling within them. I had no idea what genetic material Elissa had; maybe she had been intelligent, certainly all of his potential fathers were. I might not have had a hand in donating my own genetic material to Danny, but I'd selected his father, and I would make certain he lacked for nothing in his environment to produce a superb specimen of humanity. I had to smile at my grand plans for my boy. I supposed for a few months he could be just a baby.

"No pressure, Danny-boy," I whispered to him. "Just enjoy yourself for now. Soon you will learn many, many things. Things that most people here don't know. You'll learn about fairness and justice, democracy and much more." I giggled quietly. "But first you need to learn to read and write. Maybe even in a couple of languages! I think you should play a musical instrument too. I will have a guitar made for you to play, or would you prefer a wind instrument? Not the harpsichord, I hate that instrument and they don't seem to have them here, fortunately. I'm not buying you a drum set, either."

I snuggled my boy for a few more minutes and put him down, hoping he wouldn't start to fuss and awaken Iveta.

I finally had a moment to go through the correspondence addressed to me. I could see that Varel could probably handle a lot of it and decided to ask him to intercept my mail in the future and screen it for me. I laid aside everything except two letters, one from Loghain and another from Alistair. I opened Alistair's first, realizing with a pang how much I missed him. A ring rolled out of the center of the message. I picked it up and looked at it wonderingly. It wasn't a terribly fancy ring and it didn't look new at all. It was a gold band with an intricate design carved into it. On the inside it was inscribed: _Together Forever. _I stared at it, very puzzled. Why would Alistair send me a ring?

_Dear Lucy, Hero of Ferelden, Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Liberator of the Free World,_

I giggled at Alistair's exuberant use of titles. He was still just a goofy guy, even if he was the king.

_I write to you with happy tidings: My beautiful queen and wife has given birth to an exceptionally handsome boy. He has Anora's hair, I think, but the nose is mine. Certainly his appetite is mine. If the size of his feet are any indication, he may end up being a rather large boy._

_We named him Calenhad. I hope it doesn't put too much pressure on him, but perhaps our son will bring together the Bannorn the way Calenhad brought together the Clayne... his parents could certainly use some help in that regard. Those Banns in the center of the country take up about 80% of our time and effort. Of course, many of them were devastated by the Blight and that doesn't help matters, but they're an argumentative and difficult-to-please lot._

_I understand that you have had your baby and you have a boy as well. I'm sure our two boys will be great friends. We will have to make certain they spend time together. Perhaps your boy will grow up to be Calenhad's Loghain._

I rolled my eyes. _Good lord, I hope not._ Loghain and Maric had a miserable relationship for much of their time together. I don't think it was healthy for either one of them.

_I understand you named him Daniel. I like the name very much. I think it a wonderful way to remember Riordan. I suppose you'll call him Danny. Loghain is convinced the boy is his although I rather imagine you would like it to be Riordan's. I know he held a special place in your heart._

_I think if he were alive right now he would insist that you secure a future for your son. Growing up as a bastard was __not fun__, Lucy. I never felt I fit in anywhere. Other kids rubbed my nose in it. I know Loghain offered to marry you but you turned him down. You have your reasons why, even though it is a rather elegant solution to your problem. I would like to suggest an alternative, so that you can spare your boy the trouble I grew up with._

I sighed. Alistair hadn't had any parent to defend him from the jerks, just a negligent guardian and his harridan of a wife.

_I think you'll like this solution and, should Zevran return from Antiva, I can't imagine he would object either. I think you should tell people that you and Riordan were secretly married and the babe is his. I've sent along a ring you can wear. Tell people that it was your wedding ring._

Ah! That explains the ring. Hm... Alistair was right. There was no harm in it. If anyone asked, Alistair would vouch for the fact that we had wed, perhaps a hand-fasting ceremony during our travels.

_The two heroes of the land married, what could be more romantic? Please Lucy, for the sake of your child, and yourself, do this. I'll figure out a way to explain it to Anora who still believes that Loghain is the father and that the two of you will eventually marry._

_Please write to me with your response to my suggestion and tell me how it goes with you._

_All my love to you and your new baby. I hope you will come see us soon!_

_Alistair _

_P.S. I'm just Alistair to you, forever. If you ever 'majesty' me, I'm throwing you in Fort Drakon. Ha, ha! Just kidding... but really, don't do it._

I laughed out loud at the postscript. I fought the urge to reply immediately and opened Loghain's letter instead.

_My Dear,_

_I wish I could get away from Denerim for another visit. I know you're terribly busy and I want to be there to help. Your seneschal, Varel, is a good man. I was impressed, during the little while I was there, I think he will be very helpful. Let him take on as much as possible. I will need to spend a few more weeks in Denerim and then I think I can get away to help you. Amaranthine is only two days away if one rides hard and the weather is good, so I should be able to visit frequently._

_If you read Alistair's missive then you know my daughter had a boy. They named him Calenhad. Both mother and son are healthy. They all seem very happy. I only hope no one takes to calling the boy Calen, it sounds too much like Cailan._

I could just imagine the sour look on his face as he wrote that last sentence.

_Alistair had an interesting idea to propose to you. I hope you will give it serious consideration. I am concerned about you and the child. Nobles can be very petty about such matters and you know how cruel children can be. On my next visit we'll discuss it more. I warn you, I won't take 'no' for an answer. _

"Oh, Loghain. I can be just as stubborn as you and you know it," I said to the letter.

_Despite everything, I am finding Alistair to be a steady young man, if a bit immature at times. Now that I think about it, I thought that about Maric too. Cailan lacked steadiness entirely. Anora does seem to adore Alistair, and he her, so I guess the match worked out well despite all my misgivings. _

_I hope you can take some time out of your busy schedule to write to me and tell me what our boy is up to. _

_Fond Regards,_

_Loghain_

I smiled when I realized I missed him. I thought briefly of rekindling things between us, but it would only cause hard feelings again if – _don't think it_ – _when_, Zevran returned. I couldn't do that to Loghain again. Besides, he had a thing going on with that widow. It wouldn't do to give the poor woman more grief than she'd already had losing her husband.

I couldn't have a dalliance with Anders, he was a recruit. I wasn't so clueless about my position that I could just ignore that fact. My mind drifted to the kiss with the Dark Wolf. _Foolishness. _I chastised myself and directed my mind back to the correspondence.

I fingered the ring that Alistair had sent. Perhaps Riordan and I would have married. If he had lived... he might be the commander here and I would be his second. I shivered thinking that perhaps he would have been here with the Orlesians when the darkspawn attacked. Maybe not. Perhaps he would have stayed with me in Denerim. We could have had a three-way hand-fasting ceremony. It would have been a very, very private ceremony, just a few of our more open-minded friends... Leliana being the only one I knew of that didn't seem to mind our strange arrangement.

I slid the ring on my finger and found it fit perfectly. Then I picked up a quill and wrote letters to both of them. I tried not to convey too much of my despair over the state of things here and having to spend time away from my son. I sent them both congratulations on their child and grandchild. Then I asked them both to send me troops. I thanked Alistair for sending the ring and agreed with him about the story we would tell about my fictional marriage to Riordan.

Writing the letters made me terribly homesick for Denerim. I missed sitting around a campfire with Alistair and telling him things that would make him blush and rush off to his tent. I missed Zevran's sexy chatter, and Riordan's emotionless deadpan that belied his deeply passionate nature. I almost... almost wished I could go back in time and relive it again, except without the darkspawn.

I left my room, heading down the hallway to the stairs. I got to the hallway that led to the servants' quarters, the ones who live inside the keep. I saw someone walking down the hallway in a feminine robe. I nearly walked passed without taking any particular note, but something drew my attention and I did a double-take. It was Anders. I stopped and watched him walk toward me.

"I can explain, Commander," he started to say.

"No need." Anders had certainly recovered quickly from my refusal of his kiss. A part of me was miffed… all right, perhaps slightly jealous. I was attracted to him. If he weren't my subordinate... I was being silly. I knew what the Joining was doing to my recruits because it did it to me. They just needed to be more cautious about bringing children into the world than I had been. Not that I regretted the outcome one whit, but we couldn't rely on being infertile like Wardens were with the old formula.

I was rather curious about the obviously feminine robe, but I decided not to embarrass him with questions.

"You're taking precautions, I hope," I said casually.

His brow wrinkled with confusion as he thought. "Precautions?"

"Yes, some sort of tea to prevent conception?" I knew it worked on both men and women, but it worked better on women.

"Ah! Yes, yes, of course. I have a spell for that."

"Damn, Anders! We really need to get together and have a spell swap-a-thon. When this crazy busy schedule is cleared we will do this, I swear it! I will prioritize it."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely! I want to learn shape-changing."

We parted and I went downstairs with the letters and the correspondence I didn't want to deal with. I told Varel that Loghain thought highly of him and he looked pleased, although somewhat embarrassed.

I held out my hand and pointed to the ring on my finger. "I'm married now, Varel."

He looked at me in surprise. "My congratulations, Commander. Did this happen during your trip to Amaranthine?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, Alistair was concerned about my son's future so he suggested a solution. I married the Grey Warden who was also named a Hero of Ferelden. His name was Riordan and he was a Grey Warden from Jader, although a native Ferelden by birth. The king himself will attest to this if anyone asks. In truth, we were lovers. If he had survived, I'm sure we would have married."

Varel smiled and nodded. "That is a very plausible story, my lady. There's a certain amount of tragic romance to it too. I think it will go a long way toward making you seem like a more sympathetic figure to the people, and it will certainly quiet any speculation amongst the nobility."

I sighed. "I hear that people are spreading rumors that I'm a miserable tyrant, dealing harsh punishments for minor infractions."

Varel shook his head. "I've heard a little about this myself. I suspect that once we get to the bottom of this conspiracy such rumors will cease. Did you hear from the Dark Wolf?"

I blushed involuntarily, remembering the encounter. "Yes. He's charging an arm and a leg for his services, but hopefully we can unravel this nonsense before it bears any fruit."

"As do I, Lucy." He shook his head. "We'll be having a session of court this afternoon. I suspect you will want to be there, it will set expectations of the sort of justice that people will find from their new Arlessa."

_Court? I was going to sit in judgment on people? Me?_ "Can I count on you for advice?"

"Of course."

"Maybe if I do exactly the opposite of whatever Arl Howe would have done I might come close to succeeding." I mused for awhile. "What if we eventually set up a panel of elected judges to uphold the laws, even to review the laws themselves?"

Varel looked surprised. "That sounds dangerous. What is to prevent them from being bribed?"

"What is to prevent an arl or even a king from being bribed?" I understood his concern. I'd certainly seen enough fledgling democracies black to the core with corruption. Bringing democratic reforms to the arling was an interesting thought. It made me feel invigorated again. I decided to set aside some time to muse on the subject. After all this nonsense with the darkspawn was handled, and I had some breathing time, perhaps I could start making some reforms.

"Good point. The former Arl certainly had been bought a few times."

I sensed Varel was being ironic. I'd bet the highest bidder got whatever sort of justice he wanted from Howe senior. I began explaining to Varel just what democracy could do and we argued back and forth about it until Captain Garevel interrupted us with news.

"Warden-Commander, riders approach flying the Highever flag. Were they expected?"

Varel and I exchanged worried glances. "Uh, no."

"Would this be your brother?" Garevel asked.

I shrugged. "Possibly. Well... prepare to be boarded, or something," I said, trying to make light of it. I walked out to the great hall where many people were gathering to see the Couslands reunited. Boy, were they in for a surprise. My three co-Wardens were there as well. Nathaniel had a strangely smug-looking expression on his face.

The three Wardens arrayed themselves around me, as if they were my personal guard. It made me feel a little better. Varel posted himself at my right side and Captain Garevel on my left. I knew I had nothing to fear physically from Fergus, it was the trouble he could stir up that I was afraid of.

We didn't have long to wait before the great door to the fortress was flung open and dozen heavily armed soldiers strode in, their weapons and armor jangling. Fergus was at the front with a particularly sour expression.

"Out. Everyone out," he commanded. "I need to have a word alone with my _sister_."

Well, I guess there wouldn't be any little fake air kisses or hugs. I turned to Varel and nodded. He in turn called out, "Clear the great hall."

Nathaniel made a frustrated little noise but turned to leave.

"Wait... You stay." Fergus pointed at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel went rigid with tension.

I put a hand on his arm and murmured to him. "Don't worry, he wouldn't dare harm you."

He didn't acknowledge the comment, but kept his eyes on Fergus.

I noticed Fergus' guards weren't leaving, but he asked them to withdraw a distance. _Really? He needs a dozen heavily armed men to talk with me? I'm think I'm flattered._

When the hall cleared, he strode over to me, removing his gauntlets and stood in front of me glaring for a moment. Then he lashed out with a hand and slapped me hard. "So, you conniving bitch, it isn't enough that you end up with Howe's estate, but you've got a Howe with you as well? I suppose that bastard you gave birth to is his as well?"

I rubbed at my cheek and laughed harshly. "His? I've only know him for a few weeks. Nathaniel is a Grey Warden. He has chosen to serve Ferelden in a very honorable manner." Okay, I was stretching the truth a little. He didn't choose anything, I chose for him. "And as such," I continued strongly, "he is under my protection. I think you remember whose protection I am under." I glowered back at him, the burning from his slap goading my anger.

Fergus drew his sword and pointed it at Nathaniel. "I would be well within my rights to behead this traitor."

Nathaniel looked about ready to grab his own pair of daggers so I stepped between the two men. "Nathaniel, leave us," I said calmly, countering Fergus' earlier order. I drew lyrium from my necklace and was prepared to do what I must to save Nathaniel, but I hoped it wouldn't come to that, especially with a dozen witnesses to see Elissa Cousland using magic.

I heard Nathaniel's footsteps as he backed away, but I didn't let my eyes leave Fergus for a moment. I wasn't entirely sure he wasn't going to decide to run me through. His eyes were burning with the sort of hatred I usually see just before someone swings a sword at me. We stood, eyes locked, nostrils flaring, for a long moment and then he slowly sheathed his sword.

"Name your bastard's father." He demanded.

"My _son _is not a bastard and I hardly see how this is any of your business." Now my temper really was fraying.

"It _is_ my business, _sister_. Your bastard will inherit Highever should anything happen to me. Is that your plan? You give me Highever only to have your misbegotten brat take it from me on my death? Is it your intention to hasten that moment?"

I stepped closer, my nose only an inch from his. "You _will _stop talking about my son like that. I don't want your goddamned Highever for me or my son. Your title doesn't interest me in the slightest."

"Tell me who fathered your bastard," he demanded again.

I lowered my voice so only he could hear it. "I swear to whatever deity you choose if you call him that again I will castrate you right here in front of your guards. Then try to get yourself an heir!"

"Whose?" he shouted, ignoring my threat. "Is it Loghain's?"

I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him anything, not even my well crafted lie, but withholding it wasn't going to resolve anything either. "His father is Riordan, the other Hero of Ferelden, the one who died. My husband."

"Right, how convenient he isn't around to support the story." He narrowed his eyes at me. "And why so secretive?"

"King Alistair was there if you wish for confirmation. We weren't secretive, we simply didn't have time for some big party in the middle of the Blight."

"A Cousland marrying a commoner." He spit out the words. "What would our parents have said?"

"I'm not a Cousland, my lord," I imbued the honorific with as much sarcasm as possible.

"You are in every way that counts, but one. I expect you to comport yourself as if you were. What you do reflects on me."

"Renounce me. Disown me. Prune me from the family tree. It seems that would be the best solution. Then you and I can go our separate ways and our paths need never cross again."

His lip turned in a sneer. "I wish it were that easy. Oh, I will disown you, you can be certain of that, but you are my vassal now and you owe me fealty." He drew his sword again and held it before me. "On your knees."

"Why?" I eyed him suspiciously. Does he mean to behead me or have me blow him?

"Do it!" he roared. His guards started coming closer.

I was still brimming with lyrium, ready to act in a second if necessary. I knelt before him, never taking my eyes off his.

"Give me your oath of fealty," he snarled.

"Uh..." I tried to remember the oath those Banns had sworn to me, but my mind went blank. "I promise that I, Elissa Cousland, will be a good vassal and do the vassal-y things I am supposed to do. So help me Maker."

"Idiot. That's not a proper oath. Say it properly and use your real name."

I shrugged. "I don't know the words."

He sighed. "Repeat after me, then. I promise that I, whatever your name is..."

"I promise that I, Lucille Ball..." Hell, he didn't know my real name, I could make it up.

"... will be faithful to the Teyrn in matters of life, limb and earthly honor," he continued.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "... will be faithful to the Teyrn in matters of life, limb and earthly honor."

"Never will I bear arms against him or his heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker," he growled.

"Never will I bear arms against him or his heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker. Amen," I repeated, crossing my fingers.

He added a frown to his glower at the last part. "Kiss my sword."

"Oh, for god's sake! No one kissed my dagger when I took oaths."

"Do it!" The sword came closer to my face.

I sighed and leaned forward, carefully holding the tip with the flat of my hand and kissing it. At the last moment I cast a small, discrete spell that sent a painful electrical charge through the blade and shocked him.

He jumped back and dropped his sword. "I warn you, woman, you will pay for your insolence." He bent and picked it up again.

I stood and dusted off my knees. "Keep in mind Anora's words from the post-Blight celebration, Fergus."

"Teyrn," he growled.

"Teyrn," I spat out the word. "Anora stated that I was under the protection of the crown. Unless you plan to openly defy the monarchy of this country, and Teyrn Loghain, Arl Teagan and lots of others, then..."

He swished his sword through the air. "Enough!" He turned on his heel and gestured to his guards. They followed him out of the keep, clanking even more noisily than they had entered.

I followed them out and watched them ride away. An older elven man moved a little too slowly and they rode him down.

"Assholes!" I shouted after them. I ran to the old man they had knocked over. He was bleeding, but conscious. I had to be cautious about using magic openly. I put my hands on him and examined him with my magic. He had a mild head injury and a compound fracture of the leg, but he would survive.

I saw the others surging out of the keep. Varel ran to me.

"Varel, get Anders. This man has been injured by those fuckers!"

"Yes, Commander." He turned and ran into the keep.

"Are you all right?" I asked the man.

He nodded. "I will be all right, ser. Don't worry yourself about me."

"What is your name?" I asked him.

"I'm Samuel, the groundskeeper." He groaned and tried to sit up.

"Take it easy, Samuel. Anders will be here in no time. He's a good healer, he delivered my baby." I spoke soothingly to him.

He smiled and clutched my arm. "I heard you had a baby that very night when you came and fought the darkspawn. How is your boy?"

"He's very healthy and quite handsome. You will have to come see him sometime." I tried to keep his mind off the pain.

"Aye, lady. I'd like that." He turned his head and saw someone behind me. "Is that you, Nathaniel?"

"Groundskeeper Samuel?" Nathaniel's voice held a note of wistfulness. "I can't believe you're still here!"

Anders arrived just then and ordered Samuel to be moved into the keep to the infirmary. Nathaniel picked him up carefully and carried him inside. Anders cast a concerned look at me then followed his patient into the keep.

I stood up and felt stunned, trying to understand what had just happened. I was a vassal of my worst enemy. I didn't know exactly what he could do to me to make my life a misery, but I was sure he would do whatever he could.

It didn't look like my life was going to stop sucking any time soon.

**Nathaniel**

He backed away slowly from Fergus Cousland after Lucy inserted herself between them. What would he do if Fergus attacked her? The hesitation in answering himself was his answer. He would hesitate, and she might die, although he wondered if she would. He had seen how she could move faster than the eye could follow. He turned around once he found the stairs and climbed until he was out of sight. Then he carefully sneaked back down and hid himself so he could listen in.

The drama played out before his ears, but he didn't dare risk poking out his head from his hiding place to look. Fergus' words were so filled with venom he could just imagine he was on the verge of murder. Lucy was like a mad wolverine when he called her child a bastard. He dared to hope that the pair would attack one another. If that happened he didn't care about the risk, he would look. If he were to bet, it would be on her. He had seen the sort of damage she could inflict with just her daggers and if she could readily move as fast as she did that time in his bedroom, Fergus was a goner.

Fergus demanded over and over to know who the boy's father was and she finally told him: Riordan, a Grey Warden, a commoner. They had married, she said. Nathaniel agreed with Fergus when he said it was convenient that Riordan wasn't around to challenge that assertion. _Ah, such a disappointment. It would have been such fun if she'd been saddled with a bastard. No one would challenge her and King Alistair about the marriage or the baby's paternity._

Then Fergus had demanded she kneel and swear fealty to him, in a most humiliating manner. Nathaniel just _had_ to see this. He carefully peeked out from of his hiding place and saw her kneel and heard her botch the oath. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Lucy was impudent to the very end. Fergus did his very best to demean her, make her cower, but she didn't. At the end, Fergus dropped his sword and jumped as if he had been shocked. What had she done to him? Whatever it was, it had been subtle, and he hadn't seen any indication of magic.

He ducked back into the shadows and listened as the Teyrn and his soldiers left the keep. What a spectacular show! The dueling Couslands were well worth the risk. Fergus had certainly been fierce, but the commander... he had to admire, however grudgingly, her refusal to back down. Even in her submission she had managed to be defiant. He wasn't sure who had won that encounter, but it certainly wasn't Fergus.

After Fergus and his soldiers rode off Lucy followed them out and he heard her yelling. Curiosity drove him to go out and he saw an old man lying in the courtyard with Lucy bent over him.

He came closer to see. "Groundskeeper Samuel?" He couldn't believe it. The old elf had been the groundskeeper ever since he had been a boy. "I can't believe you're still here!"

The groundskeeper smiled through the pain. "Master Nathaniel, you've returned! I hoped you would one day. Your sister is going to be relieved to see you."

Nathaniel wanted to reply but Anders asked him to carry the old man to the infirmary. He carefully picked him up and carried him inside. The old elf weighed so little. He wasn't young when Nathaniel was a boy, how old must he be now?

He let Anders attend to the old man but he came back to see him when the mage was finished.

"Samuel, my sister is alive?" he asked. "I thought she had died."

The old man smiled and patted the Howe's hand. "Aye, lad. She is married and living in Amaranthine. I wondered what had become of you, whether you survived the Blight or no."

"Maker... I thought they were all dead. Father, Thomas, Delilah..." He felt the grim, angry depression he'd been living with for months dissipate some. _Delilah is alive!_ His mind began trying to assemble a life for them both. Maybe they could both live at the keep. Would Lucy would let her? Delilah might make a good governess for her son. Or they could move to the Free Marches and start over there. Perhaps Bann Esmerelle would advance them some money; she seemed to have been fond of his father.

Hope. A spark of hope and happiness lit inside his chest. He would have to get to Amaranthine again and soon.

He chatted with Samuel awhile longer and they reminisced together over old times, times when Nathaniel had been careless of beds with newly sprouted seeds. Samuel had an endless amount of work planting and replanting what the boy's careless feet had trod. Then there were the mud puddles that he loved to splash through and that one time when the old groundskeeper had lifted him out of a puddle he'd fallen into face down. Samuel had taken him to his own small house and helped him clean up so he wouldn't get into too much trouble.

Nathaniel vowed to beg Lucy, if he must, to allow him to go to Amaranthine. He simply must see his sister.

**Anders**

Lucy had stomped upstairs after he had seen to the elderly elven man. From the tight expression on her features he knew she was angry. He should just give her some space and let her cool off, but perhaps she needed a friendly ear, or he could assist her with some other ways inducing a state of relaxation. There was sweet madcap, the herb, of course. There were a few spells he'd picked up from apostates when he'd been on the run, and there was always the healing art of massage that he had studied, unofficially, at the Circle Tower. That last one often led to his all-time favorite method of relaxing: sex.

He gave her ten minutes and then went to her rooms. She wasn't in her sitting room so he knocked at the bedroom door. He heard her muffled voice in the other room.

"Oh, for chrissakes, what is it now!"

He heard her footsteps stamping to the door. She flung it open with a scowl on her face. "Oh, Anders! Sorry... I'm just... Oooh! That horrid man! I came _this _close to killing him." She showed him how close with her fingers and then gestured for him to come in and closed the door behind him. "I'm too upset to even go see Danny. I don't want to scare him."

"Actually, that's why I'm here. I could see you were pretty worked up and thought you might need some help putting this behind you. You should relax, being this tense is not good for you."

She sighed and slumped into a chair. "I know. Maybe I should just take this out on a training dummy, or get someone to spar with."

Anders shook his head. "In your current mood, someone might get hurt."

She frowned and nodded. "You're right. Do you have something in mind?"

"There's always sweet madcap. That'll take the edge right off."

She shook her head. "I'm holding court this afternoon. I can't show up at my first court high as a kite, tempting as that thought is."

"I find massage often works wonders. I've learned various massage techniques in the tower."

Lucy bit her lip, looking tempted. "I'm sure you have. I've experienced some _massage techniques_ myself, some of which might be responsible for that cute bundle of joy you delivered a few weeks ago. Do you have anything where I keep my clothes on?"

Anders sighed theatrically. "Clothes on. No herbal remedies. You're making this difficult. However, there is something else." He sat down on the sofa. "Come here, sit on the floor between my legs."

Her eyebrow rose questioningly but she obeyed. She sat down, facing away from him. He put his fingers on her temples. "Close your eyes and try to empty your mind, I'm going to help you do it with magic."

"All right," she said.

He heard a little relaxation in her voice with just the simple act of closing her eyes. Magic swirled off his fingertips in green and grey spirals of fog. She sagged back against the sofa. It was working well. This spell would help to slow the mind. It was rather drug-like, but it would wear off immediately once he stopped the spell. It would end the cycle of anxiety that caused the body to react with stress, which in turn fed the anxiety. Once that cycle was broken, in a few minutes the urge to fight or flee would be gone. "How does this feel, Lucy?"

"Amazing," she murmured, slurring the word.

"Good. I know you feel a little high right now, but that will go away when I stop and you'll just feel relaxed again." He moved his hands down to her neck and began to pour the magic into the tight muscles there.

She listed to the right and slumped against his leg, muttering something nonsensical. He felt a little dampness against his knee and saw she was drooling slightly.

"All right, that might be a bit too much." He pulled back on his magic some. She remained slumped against his leg and he heard her snoring softly. He shut the spell off and put his hand back on her temple a moment. His healing sense told him she was deeply asleep. Her eyes were moving under her lids. She wouldn't awaken easily. He didn't move for several minutes, holding an internal debate.

He wanted to kiss the top of her head. _Is that creepy? What's really creepy is I'm having this conversation with myself. Of course it's creepy. How would you like someone kissing on your head when you're asleep? I guess it would depend on who it was. If it was her... I would like it. If it was Mistress Woolsey, I would probably wake up screaming. So... the question is, am I Mistress Woolsey to her? _He shook his head remembering the little frisson of attraction between them in Amaranthine. _I didn't imagine that. At least, I've convinced myself of it. It could be I'm fooling myself. So... what do I do?_

In the end he leaned close to her scalp and inhaled the scent of her hair. It smelled nicely herbal, a touch of rosemary and almond. It was a decent compromise. Sniffing her hair was only slightly creepy. He certainly hoped that Mistress Woolsey never sniffed his hair while he slept. He carefully untangled himself from her and slipped a hand behind her head. Her hair tickled softly against his arm as he adjusted her so she wasn't contorted and would wake up with a neck ache.

He went to her bedroom door and pulled it closed behind him, pausing to look back at her one more time. When she had seen him coming from the servant's quarters dressed in someone else's robe, had he finally completely ruined his chances with her? She seemed rather blasé about the entire thing. More concerned that he didn't father an unwanted child than anything. He didn't sense even the slightest spark of jealousy.

_Maker! _He wondered what was wrong with him. When had he ever been so obsessed with a woman? He laughed at that thought. When hadn't he been obsessed with women? Well, women in general but _a woman_, in the singular? _Singular, indeed. _Perhaps it was just gratitude that she had saved him from the Circle and her strangeness that attracted him. _That has to be it. _It was just a boyish crush, he would get over it. He nearly laughed at himself as he walked back to his room.

**Varel**

The commander came down shortly before he was about to go up to her room and get her so they could prepare for court. She looked remarkably calm considering the brutal nature of Teyrn Cousland's visit.

There were some strategically placed vents in the great hall that allowed the sounds from within to rise up to key spots on the second floor, not to mention a few peepholes. The Howes' ancient keep was filled with the means to spy on people. He had stationed himself in one such spot and watched what transpired and heard most of what was said. To say that the Teyrn did not like Lucy was an understatement. He thought he was going to witness a cold-blooded murder and he wasn't sure he could do anything about it. The Maker protects fools, drunks, and children, and apparently strange women from other worlds; Teyrn Fergus did not run her, or the Howe boy, through.

He was impressed with her fearless defense of her child in front of the Teyrn. When she threatened to castrate him he didn't think it was an empty threat.

"Commander!" He solicitously took her arm and guided her to a chair. "Please sit." He shook his head and cast a worried glance at her. "Maker, the Teyrn... There was no call for that behavior, whatever the circumstances."

She looked at him with surprise. "You heard it?"

He nodded. "Forgive me for spying on you, but I feared what he might do." _Not that I could have done anything to prevent it._

"Oh, no. I appreciate it. I'm just curious as to how."

"Come with me." He took her to one of the places where one could spy on the great hall. "There are vents inset into the floor and you can hear and see what happens below."

"Wow! That's quite handy. I'm glad to know of this."

Varel chuckled. "Nobles have been forever paranoid."

She nodded. "Rightfully so. They're always one peasant revolt or invasion from being beheaded."

They went back to his study and went over what court proceedings would be like.

"This is something a seneschal can do, but I think you might want to attend to this first one yourself," he told her.

She nodded. "Yes. I have some definite opinions on justice. Until we can implement something fairer than a single person making these decisions, then I'd like to weigh in on these matters."

_Great Maker, did she really intend to carry through with a panel of judges?_ _It could set a dangerous precedent for the country. It might just incite Fergus to carry through with whatever murderous rage he'd kept in check today._ _Perhaps he could moderate her ideas... a panel of advisers might be more appropriate. _"Yes, of course, Lucy. We should probably convene court, I believe they're ready for us."

Lucy walked into the great hall and took a seat on the ostentatious chair on the raised platform. She gestured Varel close. "This chair really has to go. A simple chair will do fine in the future. And the dais must go, too. Also, you should have a chair here."

His eyebrow cocked curiously. "As you wish, Commander." He cleared his throat. "Let's begin," he spoke in his booming voice, which resonated through the hall. "The Warden-Commander will first hear the matter of the crown against the sheepherder, Alec."

Captain Garevel came forward and made an accusation against the sheepherder that he stole some grain bound for the garrison in Amaranthine. "When we confronted him, he confessed. The punishment for theft from the crown is hanging."

Lucy sat up in her chair. "Whoa! That seems a little harsh," she muttered to Varel.

"What say you, Alec?" Varel asked.

"My sheep were slaughtered by darkspawn. My... my family was starving! I bet you for mercy. Mercy, Warden-Commander!"

Varel turned Lucy and murmured: "The poor bugger, had he stolen from anyone besides the crown, he would have escaped with just a flogging."

"If I let him off, nothing is solved, and his family will still be starving. Do you have any suggestions?"

Varel rubbed his jaw. "I suppose he could join the army. Maker knows we need the troops."

She smiled warmly at the seneschal. "I like that. Very good." She stood to deliver her decision. "Alec, I know neither the king nor queen would approve of hanging a good able-bodied man for such a trivial offense, especially when the army needs more soldiers. Join the army and you can keep your life and feed your family. How does that sound to you?"

Alec bowed to me. "Thank you! Thank you!"

Varel noted some of the nobles were muttering. He thought they might find her too lenient, but such would make her popular with the common people. She'd also very cleverly cast the king and queen in a favorable light. He cleared his throat and nodded to Captain Garevel who removed the chains from the man and handed him to an underling to get situated.

"The next matter is of a civil nature," Varel informed her. "Lady Liza Packton is the sovereign of Teyrn's Down. She..."

A well-dressed woman rushed forward. "I prefer to speak for myself," she said. "The old arl, Rendon Howe, made certain promises to me. Some of these he committed to paper. I was given right to the incomes of the southern bridge."

Another noble, with a bitter expression also came forward. "And what part did you take in Howe's conspiracies to gain such a fruitful prize, eh, Liza?" He turned to me and bowed briefly. "I am Ser Derren, and it's my land she seeks." He crossed his arms. "Taken from me because I was one of the few nobles who stood up against Arl Howe."

Varel leaned over to Lucy and murmured. "Commander, Ser Derren is an ally – and Amaranthine holds few who support you wholeheartedly. If there's any hope of persuading more nobles to your cause, you must be fair minded."

Lucy's mouth twisted sardonically. "Yes, thanks for that. So, do I pander to the ones who hate me or the ones who like me?" She tapped her fingers against the elaborately carved chair arm and mused. "If one arl can just whimsically take away land from a noble and give it to another, why can't I do the same and give it back?" she murmured.

"Oh, you can, make no mistake about it, but Ser Derren already is our ally, you have a chance to potentially win another with this ruling. There are some plum holdings you might offer him in exchange, ones that Howe had seized for himself during the unrest after Ostagar."

Lucy looked interested. "I think that sounds reasonable." She stood and cleared her throat. "Ser Derren, the document is legal, I shall have to uphold it. However, I promise I will make it up to you. As soon as I have the time, we can discuss this further and come to an amicable arrangement. Would that suit you?"

Ser Derren nodded. "My father built that bridge. But... very well, I will place my trust in you." He nodded politely to the Warden-Commander.

"Thank you for your patience, Ser Derren. I'm sure in a few weeks I will have cleared enough of my schedule and we can discuss this further. Perhaps over dinner?"

Varel noticed the young noble's eyes sparkled. "I look forward to it, my lady."

The nobles turned away and walked back to their places. Varel noticed that Lucy's eyes followed Derren back to his seat. He turned, caught her eye, and smiled at her just before he seated himself.

Lucy turned back to Varel. "What's next?"

Varel spoke with his most officious voice. "Bring in Ser Temmerly, the Ox."

"Do we make knights of farm animals now?" Lucy asked, her amusement apparent.

Some of the assembled heard her comment and some laughed with her, others muttered less charitably.

Varel nudged her gently with his elbow to remind her that this affair was one that required a certain decorum.

"The Ox" was brought in between two heavily armed guards. He swaggered forward insolently and stood as if he were entirely unconcerned with his circumstances.

"Ser Temmerly stands accused of a murder most foul," Captain Garevel said, his repugnance evident. He turned to the prisoner. "You and your men came upon Ser Tamra in the dead of night and did cravenly ambush her."

Lucy looked at Varel, a hint of worry evident in her face. Varel knew she had been counting on the woman to bring them information about the conspiracy.

"The Ox" sneered at the captain. "You dare too much, Garevel. I am a noble born, and will not submit to your accusations."

"You are accused of murder, ser! My soldiers found you fleeing while Ser Tamra's blood was still hot."

"There's a great deal of traffic on the roads. Not all of it human. And it's so dangerous at night," he said unctuously. "We were merely in a hurry to reach a nice, safe place."

"You mock this court with your denials!" Garevel looked near to exploding with anger.

"You have nothing, Captain. Release me, Commander – it's this common lout's word against mine."

"Ser Temmerly was a confederate of Arl Howe's," Varel muttered to Lucy. "And Ser Tamra was the one who warned you of this conspiracy."

Lucy pursed her lips and nodded. "Is there any other evidence?"

"Only some blood on their clothes – a sadly common sight on travelers these days," Varel replied. "Other than that, nothing. The captain looked into the matter thoroughly."

"Is there any chance he's innocent?" Lucy asked quietly.

"If he's innocent, I'm the Empress of Orlais, but it is possible, I suppose."

"I think this proves the conspiracy, Varel. They've claimed their first victim."

Varel nodded. "I fear you're correct. Have you decided what to do?"

"If we execute him we do so with little proof. What if we hold him and continue our investigation? Perhaps we can persuade Ser Bovine to turn on the other conspirators in return for leniency."

Varel looked down at the floor to hide a little smirk. "I think that should work."

Lucy stood again and delivered her verdict in a clear, strong voice. "Ser Temmerly, we will hold you prisoner and continue the investigation. If you cooperate, we will be lenient. If not... the investigation may take quite a long time to resolve."

The prisoner's face contorted with anger. "What is the meaning of this? You can't do this!"

"Oh, but the Commander very much can," Varel said dryly. He enjoyed seeing the fury on "The Ox's" face. Another of Arl Howe's cronies had fallen, always a pleasant thing to see.

"This session of the arling's court is now concluded," Varel intoned.

Lucy and Varel watched while the people rose. There were many who threw smiles at the Warden-Commander, mostly commoners. The nobles looked less content, although Ser Derren was smiling at her again. Varel saw Lucy nod her head to him and a small smile curve her lips.

_Maker! Was she flirting with him? _Varel shook his head and gestured for the Warden-Commander to precede him out of the great hall.

- - -. .. ... -.-. .. . -. - / .-. - ...-

The next day the Wardens went into the dungeon below the fortress and cleared out the collection of ghouls, demons and assorted unsavories that lingered there, enough so that the debris could be cleared away and they could find if there was an entrance to the Deep Roads in the arling.

"It seems we'll be visiting the Deep Roads soon, Wardens," Lucy told them. "I think Oghren can get you caught up on what to expect." She left them to talk together while she went upstairs to spend some time with Daniel.

Anders shivered at the description. He hated enclosed spaces; it was too much like the Tower. Nathaniel was also uneasy, but Oghren seemed rather happy to be going underground. Even so long as he had lived on the surface, he still preferred to be nestled in the rocky bosom of the earth.

As they packed for their excursion, Oghren carefully packed several bottles of very potent booze. Nathaniel packed extra clean socks and Anders thought he might need some sweet madcap to make it through the excursion. Lucy packed her carefully-hoarded chocolate and some coffee. She could just imagine how much nicer chocolate would make the whole Deep Roads experience. If she'd had it the first time around, everything would have gone a whole lot better.

~o~o~o~

**Notes:**_ Biff McLaughlin did an amazing job of betaing once again. She has my eternal gratitude for giving her time to this project._

_I send my thoughts to those of you have been affected by Irene. I know Zevgirl is still without power! I hope your lives return to normal soon! Or better than normal!_

_If you haven't set up automatic notices when the story is updated, here is a reminder to do so. I'd hate for you to fall behind! My fingers are in overdrive. I'm already up to chapter 7... I'm trying not to overwhelm my dear beta-reader._

_I adore your reviews, thank you ever so much! I try to respond to them, but sometimes don't have the time. If I've missed responding to your review, I apologize! Never feel embarrassed to give your feedback. I love it. I like knowing how the each chapter makes you feel and what you think might happen next. Sometimes you inspire me! Arsinoe is totally responsible for the angst with Fergus, it was a plot point I hadn't seen until she pointed it out. Thank you, Arsinoe! _


	5. Maintaining Cohesion in Your Forces

**Maintaining Cohesion in Your Fighting Forces**

**Anders**

She handed Nathaniel a bow she had found in one of the rooms under the keep. "Want this? It has your family crest on it." She ran her thumb over the bear engraved into the wood.

He took the bow from her and examined it closely. "Is this what I think it is?"

Anders felt a terrible joke welling up from somewhere. "It's definitely not a buxom wench, if that's what you think it is." He cracked himself up sometimes.

Oghren snorted. "No, that wench is rail thin. Doesn't look like much fun in the sack either."

Nathaniel glared at the two men for spoiling his reverential moment. "That's the Howe crest burned into the wood right there. This was my grandfather's bow."

"I'd hate to be expected to perform with a wench that skinny," Oghren said, teetering slightly to one side.

Nathaniel ignored him and continued. "Or rather, my grandfather was the last to use it. It was originally made for an ancestor during the Exalted Marches."

"It is yours now, Nathaniel," Lucy said smiling at him. "Ignore these two oafs."

He stroked the bow, admiring its fine construction and elegant sweep. "Thank you. It's good to have a part of my family's legacy. Something to be proud of."

"Damn, can't you wait until you've got some privacy to make love to that skinny girl?" Oghren growled, swaying on his feet.

"Maker, you're drunk already?" Lucy leaned down to sniff at Oghren's face. "Bleh! How can you do that so early? You need an intervention. Anders, fix him up."

"Commander, it's a waste of booze. He'll just be back at it again," Anders protested.

"Just do it. I'll carry his pack. He'll have to get through me to get his booze." Lucy began to glow with arcane energies; it sent a thrill of excitement through Anders. Another strange set of magics Lucy had somehow acquired. There was something primal and ancient about this magic, very foreign to his attuned senses. She easily hefted the dwarf's pack onto her back along with her own. Several bottles clanked together noisily.

Anders sent magic into Oghren that cleared out some of the alcohol from his blood. It wouldn't do to remove it all; that would just send him into a black, grumpy depression. There was a happy medium; Oghren just didn't know to stop when he had reached it.

They were deep under the dungeon now, well into an ancient area. It seemed like a shrine created by the Alamarri. Perhaps this was where they had buried their dead. Judging from the number of spirits and other creatures they met, the dead were not resting quietly here.

Anders felt oppressed. He sensed the weight of the earth above him and the thinness of the veil. He wondered what kept the ceiling in place and the Fade demons away. Lucy walked up behind him and placed a hand on his back and he nearly blasted her with flame. "Andraste's knicker-weasels! Don't do that, Commander."

"I'm sorry, Anders. You just looked tense..."

"Well, I am now!" he snapped. "Just... you should make noise when you walk."

"All right, I'll try to shuffle or something." She looked at him with concern. "What are knicker-weasels?"

It was a blatant attempt to change the subject, but he didn't mind. "Well, imagine a pair of frisky weasels in your knickers, Commander. All that activity might incite certain... primal urges."

Her face puckered as she tried to restrain her laughter. "I hope they're declawed and don't bite! That wouldn't exactly be conducive to primal urges. Or at least, not any sort of primal urge I've experienced."

Nathaniel intruded into their conversation. "Nonsense. Knicker-weasels are loin lice. Don't feed the commander your nonsense, Anders."

"Loin lice?" She pondered it a moment. "Crabs?"

"Crabs?" Both men looked at her looking confused.

"Hard to believe we're all speaking English here," she said.

"English?" Anders looked at her oddly again.

"Um... the common tongue. It's called English on my world. We call Orlesian, French. Antivan is Italian. Anderfellatio is called German."

"Anderfellatio?" Nathaniel asked.

Lucy smiled mischievously. "What is their language called? I just made that up."

Both men shrugged.

They marched on for hours, exploring and clearing out every room and every single twist of every hallway. Anders couldn't conceive how Lucy could carry two packs, fight like a banshee and still look fresh as a daisy – other than the dust and dried blood streaking her face, that and a rather sensual, musky essence that mingled with her usual scent of herbs and almonds. He began to wonder whether his infatuation with Lucy was entirely olfactory based. Not that she was unattractive. No, he liked looking at her too; especially when she wore that armored skirt that left a little bit of her leg exposed. Or that other, more form-fitting, armor that clung so closely to her backside, almost like a second skin.

Was it completely weird to really like the smell of someone's perspiration? Nathaniel's sweat stunk and Oghren... his odor was indescribably bad, but that had to do with alcohol in his system, food rotting in his beard and his complete disdain of bathing. Anders wondered what he smelled like. Did he have a pleasant, manly pungence? Or was he more like Nathaniel's sharp-smelling aroma? He wished he could ask someone for an opinion.

"How far down does this go?" Anders asked. "It seems like we've been at this for over a day."

Lucy looked up. "I suppose we should stop. It doesn't look like we can completely clear this out in a single day." She sighed and looked unhappy.

Anders knew she wanted to get back to Daniel. If they all had her abilities they could probably go on for days without resting. Even though Anders had been rejuvenating all of them, they were beginning to flag.

They stopped and set up camp. They didn't have tents - Lucy said they weren't necessary since they'd be deep underground and protected from elements - but they built a fire to warm themselves and give them more light than magic could provide.

Lucy scouted around the area and disappeared into a little room, hidden from view from the others. Anders heard water flowing.

"Commander, are you okay? Where's the water coming from?" he called after her.

"I'm fine. Just taking a bath. I'll show you when I'm done," her voice floated out to him.

Oghren snorted. "Never saw a person so crazy about being clean. Nearly every night she insisted on a hot bath no matter what. Makes the water come right out of her hands, she does. Right useful for cooking but I don't hold with all that bathing. It can't be good for ya."

"Perhaps you should," Nathaniel said dryly. "It might make the wenches more willing."

Anders had a sly idea. "Perhaps you can make a trade with her. Offer to take a bath and clean up in return for a bottle of your booze." Anything to get the dwarf to a slightly less aromatic state.

"Hey, Twitch, that's not a bad idea," Oghren agreed.

Anders could hear Lucy splashing in the next room over.

"Hey Sister. Go Sister. Soul Sister. Go Sister," she sang. Lucy's voice floated out to them in a song. It went high and thin and she sang: "Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da. Gitchi gitchi ya ya here. Mocca chocalata ya ya. Creole Lady Marmalade."

The three men looked at each other.

"Does she do this often?" Anders asked Oghren. He'd never heard such a strange song before. The lyrics seemed somewhat suggestive, but made no real sense.

He shrugged. "Often enough."

"Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?" she sang and repeated several times.

"Isn't that Orlesians?" Nathaniel asked.

"Um... yes," Anders replied. His grasp of Orlesian was very good.

"Translation?" Nathaniel prompted him.

"Do you want to sleep with me tonight," Anders replied.

Nathaniel looked at him and furrowed his forehead. "No, I don't. What was she singing?"

Anders sighed. "Do you want to sleep with me tonight. That's what she was singing."

Oghren snorted noisily. "Figures."

Lucy walked out of the "bathroom" in a loose pair of pants and a big shirt. Her hair was wrapped in some sort of fluffy, expanse of fabric. She saw the three men staring at her. "What?"

"We were just curious about that song," Anders said. "Hadn't ever heard anything like it." He picked at a fleck of lint on his sleeve. "Interesting lyrics."

Lucy smiled. "It's about a prostitute getting killed by her... date."

"Say, Commander... The mage had a good idea. Tell her, Twitch," Oghren prodded Anders.

"Well, I was just suggesting that Oghren might agree to a bath in exchange for a bottle of booze from his pack. A win all around."

"Hm..." Lucy mused. "It's a deal. The water is nice and deep and very hot." She pulled out her dagger and cut her bar of soap in half. "Here's some soap. Don't forget the hair and the beard. I expect you to be scentless when you come out, except for the smell of the soap! Otherwise, no booze."

Oghren grumbled and snatched up the soap. "Can I have one of those things?" He pointed at the towel wrapped around her head.

"One of my beloved towels?" She pulled one out of her pack and held it up to her face cuddling it. "You know, they don't use these here, they use linen. I had these made especially..." She snarled suddenly, "So help me, Oghren, if you foul this I will scorch your beard off!" She threw the towel at him.

He laughed raucously and went into the "bathroom". They heard a little water splashing.

"I mean it, Oghren. You'd better come out of there perfectly clean!" she shouted.

"By the Ancestors, woman, I'm washing!" The splashing became more vigorous.

"Better be," she muttered.

Nathaniel looked uncomfortable. "He should have gone last. I think I'll skip the bath."

Anders nodded in agreement. "I'm with you, brother."

Lucy dug into her pack and pulled out some traveler's rations. They were patties made of dried, powdered venison, chicken fat, honey, dried berries and salt. She called it "pemmican". They weren't bad tasting, but they got tedious quickly. More importantly they were a good source of protein and calories for people who needed loads of both.

Oghren came out of the bathroom after quite awhile, his hair also wrapped up in a towel and the braids were out of his beard. Lucy sidled up to him and sniffed, then grinned broadly.

"By the Maker, Oghren, you don't stink!" She hugged him.

"How am I going to re-braid my beard?" he grumbled.

"I'll do it," Lucy offered.

He handed her the strings and she set to work braiding him. She seemed to struggle with the task and he looked rather lopsided when she finished. "You might want to redo it when we get back, but the darkspawn don't care what you look like."

"Eh, whatever. Can I have my bottle now?"

She nodded gave him back his pack. "I'll trade you for the towel."

He unwrapped the towel from around his head and gave it to her. She breathed a sigh of relief after she examined it.

They chatted around the fire and decided on a watch, and then, just before they retired, Lucy got out a "special treat". Her eyes were glowing happily. "I think any trips to the Deep Roads need to be accompanied by chocolate so there's something to look forward to at the end of the day."

"Chocolate?" Nathaniel said. "Oh Maker, not that bitter drink the Orlesians love?"

"This chocolate is candy. It is a little sweet and it melts in your mouth." She rummaged around in her pack and drew out a fancy carved box and opened it. "Smell this..." she said as reverentially as if she were passing around Andraste's ashes.

Everyone took a sniff. Anders liked it. It smelled... rich and earthy. Very compelling. "That smells wonderful, Commander," he said.

She broke off pieces and handed some to each of them. They all popped it in their mouths. Oghren made a face and swallowed it quickly. He washed it down with his booze.

Anders' eyes grew big. "Maker that's... wow, that's good!"

Nathaniel's expression looked pained. "Bitter!" He swallowed his quickly and washed it down with water.

"Hmmm... more for us then!" Lucy said pertly. She poured a cup of sweetened tea for Anders. "Wash it down with that."

He took a sip and closed his eyes blissfully. "Ah... perfection."

The two mages ate chocolate and moaned indecently for a few minutes. Then they retired for the night. The camp got very quiet, except for the sound of Oghren slurping at his bottle.

The chocolate put Anders in a better mood. He actually slept well until it was his turn to take watch. He stopped thinking about all the rocks and earth over his head and started to think about naked women instead.

It took them another day, but they finally cleared out the darkspawn and other assorted creatures and Lucy turned them around and they began a much quicker assent. She pushed them until late at night. They were all bone weary, even Lucy, but they spent that night in their own beds in the keep.

**Zevran**

He dozed fitfully in the back of a wagon, buried under several feet of straw. Antiva City had gotten too hot for him. Nearly a third of his old Crow cell was dead, but now da capo had joined with another and both cells were hunting him. The deep wound in his side ached dully. He gave himself a fifty percent chance of surviving at first, but now he was feverish. His odds, he calculated during a rare lucid moment, were falling.

When the cart finally stopped at the end of the day, he poked his head out from beneath the straw. They were in a small village. He wormed his way out of the wagon and dropped behind it in a crouch, holding his hand over the leaking wound. He half-ran, half-limped to a shadowy alley and slumped down against a wall.

"Amore," he whispered. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. "Maker, keep my Lucia safe and protect our baby." His eyes drooped shut and he saw her face as he had so many times, hovering above his, her dark eyes half shut and her full lips coming closer to his. Her hair lapped the sides of his face, enclosing him in a russet cloud and she breathed his name like a sweet, cool breeze across his lips. _Zevran._

Darkness enclosed him even while the sunset painted the clouds in vibrant oranges and pinks. It was a sunset that would have inspired his poetic soul had he but seen it.

**Lucy**

I awoke in a sweat, feeling hot and feverish. I sat up in bed with a panicked gasp and my eyes tried to pierce the darkness in the bedroom to look for the danger. There was nothing, just a feeling of unease. I kindled a mage light and peered around the room. I got up, opened armoires, checked under the bed and out on the balcony. I went into the nursery and saw Daniel resting peacefully. Iveta was asleep as well. I sensed no darkspawn.

My thoughts drifted to Zevran. I didn't really believe that people could be psychically connected, but just thinking of him was making me uneasy.

_This is just a dormant fear that has decided to awaken in the wee hours, _I told myself. Nearly four months now and not a word. I sighed and slumped onto the sofa in my bedroom. It was time to have this conversation with myself. _How long does it take to defeat a Crow cell? Why hasn't he written? _I tried to imagine myself in his position, but it was impossible. I knew so little about these mysterious Crows other than the stories he'd told me. How many people were in a Crow cell? Were they as good as him, or possibly better?

Perhaps he felt it was too dangerous to me to write. They'd certainly used me before to try to get to him. That thought heartened me a little.

_How long until_... I recoiled from the thought, but pushed myself to the precipice I didn't want to peek over. _How long until I give up? _I peered into the abyss. "No!" I sobbed at the thought. _This is too soon. A year, maybe two years. After all Danny has only been dead for..._

I leapt up from the couch and ran to my desk. I pulled out the calendar. _Exactly one year today._ It suddenly made sense. On some level, I must have remembered that this was the day the Blight ended and my Danny had died. That was why I had the moment of feverish panic.

I would have to make plans for a memorial dinner tonight. We four Wardens could remember the fallen today and be reminded as to our purpose. I would tell them about Danny and his heroism. I think they had the story now that he was Daniel's father and my dead husband, but I would tell them myself. Only Oghren knew that was perhaps a bit of a stretch, but I trusted he wouldn't tell. If it wasn't entirely true, it was _essentially_ true.

We would need to be on the road again soon. At least the engineers were working on sealing off the Deep Roads entrance we found last week. We would go to the Wending Woods next; hopefully it would be a short jaunt.

There was no use sleeping when my mind was whirling like this. It looked like it would be dawn soon. I dressed and got an early start on my day.

_~o~o~o~_

We emerged, blinking, into the sunshine after having fought our way out of an abandoned mine. The homicidal Dalish elf wanted to join us... just my luck. We four Wardens seemed to be working well together, now this harridan wanted to tag along. I could only imagine how it would affect the dynamics of our group. _I mean... what is holding her tits in place in that thing she is wearing?_ _Industrial strength adhesive?_ There were laws of physics being violated and that made me angry. I was becoming annoyed seeing the three male Wardens also trying to catch a boob liberating itself from its unlikely containment field.

Anders was practically drooling over her blond hair and exposed cleavage. Nathaniel was being all "my lady this, my lady that". Oghren just stared a lot and made wisecracks. The elf had the nastiest disposition imaginable and she absolutely hated shemlens, which she took every opportunity to remind us we were, not to mention that we had personally oppressed her people for thousands of years.

I was going to have to have a good long talk with her before the Joining ceremony. I needed to know I could count on her loyalty and discretion. She had to prove to me she could get past her hatred of shemlens enough to work with us and I had to know she could be trusted with my secrets. There wasn't going to be fooling other Grey Wardens. When we fought darkspawn I had to be able to openly use my magic and sooner or later, she'd figure out that I was not really Elissa Cousland. There was no hiding this from her.

"How long were we in there?" Anders asked. "He could have kept us unaware for weeks, even months."

Velanna laughed harshly at Anders. "You know nothing, shem. We were only there a few days, if that."

Anders drew his eyes away from her chest and finally looked into her face. He looked miffed, which I confess made me a little happy. _Shit! Am I jealous?_

"And just how do you know that?" Anders asked. "Some sort of ancient elvish magic?"

Velanna sighed. "Even a child could tell you, as long as the child wasn't blind." She gestured with her hands. "Look around you, imbecile! Is the season different? We're at the end of autumn and the trees have only a few leaves left. When we emerged they had essentially the same number as when we went in. It couldn't have been long. They'll be gone in the next storm, which happens quite frequently this far north."

Anders harrumphed. "It could be exactly a year later!" He looked wounded. "I didn't grow up in a forest. I was locked in a tower and the windows were too high to look out of."

"Just another example of shemlen idiocy. Rather than making use of your powers you lock your mages away. Ridiculous! You could be out in the villages healing the sick, making life better for your people."

She was really on a tear now; however, I didn't disagree with her. "True, that," I said. "It is pretty silly."

Anders agreed with me and Nathaniel took the opposing view. We argued most of the way back to the Vigil. By the time we arrived – on foot, because our horses were gone when we emerged – Anders had stopped staring at her cleavage and flinched every time her shrill voice said anything. Nathaniel and Oghren were still drooling over her though.

I pulled the shrewish elf aside. "I'll decide in the morning whether or not you will undertake the Joining. I'll talk to you again this evening."

"Delays and more delays! The sooner I drink your foul potion, the sooner I can begin looking for my sister," she complained.

I blinked. "You know what the Joining involves?"

She nodded. "Of course, we Dalish share information like that. What? Do the shemlen keep it a secret from one another?" She barked with laughter.

I drew a deep breath and counted to ten. "I'll talk to you after dinner." I went into the keep and was met by a very worried Varel.

"Commander, we were worried, you are three days late coming home. Is everything all right?"

I told him the story of our captivity and he looked terribly worried.

"Thank the Maker you're all right. I'm sure you'll want to see your son. He's been just fine. There are some things we must discuss, but it can wait until after you've seen your boy."

I nodded and smiled at Varel. He was always thoughtful about my primary concern. I jogged up the stairs and into my sitting room where I stopped. Iveta was handing Daniel to Anders. He peered into my boy's face and started talking to him in a baby voice. It was so cute, my heart melted a little. They didn't realize I was there for a moment, then Iveta looked up and saw me.

"My lady! Warden Anders just wanted to see the boy he delivered," Iveta said, explaining why someone else was holding my baby.

Anders turned around, barely taking his eyes off Daniel. "Well, hullo! Here's your mama, now, Danny. You're getting big, little fellow. Very big! Did Andies do a good job bringing you into the world?"

I laughed at him. "Andies did a fine job bringing my boy into the world."

He looked up from the baby finally, his face looking relaxed and soft. "You know, babies are rather nice, and this one seems exceptionally nice. He doesn't fuss at all." As if in response to that Daniel flailed and punched Anders in the chin. Anders looked down at him. "Okay, but he does have a vewy, vewy bad habit of punching people!"

I took my baby from Anders. "I'll want to talk to you shortly. About Velanna. Will you be around?"

"Yes, I'll be in my room. Knock first though, I might be bathing and you wouldn't want a glimpse of my magely parts... or would you?"

"Magely parts?" I asked. "Your staff?" Then, after I said it, the double entendre occurred to me and we both laughed.

"Indeed!" he said.

"I will knock. I promise."

"More's the pity," he sighed, and left me with my boy.

I turned to Iveta. "Speaking of baths, I would like one. Perhaps Daniel can join me in the water for a bit?"

Iveta nodded. I filled the tub from my hands. She knew that the Warden-Commander was a mage, but she didn't know the whole story. I undressed and luxuriated in the very hot water, washing the dust and filth from my hair then I drained and refilled the tub again, with cooler water this time so it wouldn't burn Daniel. Iveta handed me a very naked, wiggly infant and we sat in the tub and splashed together. I sang him the Mr. Squirry, the Squirrel song, and Daniel looked very happy and content.

After bath time was over, I dressed in a simple, pale green gown. I really needed some trousers made, but I'd gotten used to gowns. I liked ones that were form-fitted down to my waist then flared out. My bosom had shrunk some, although it was a little larger than it was pre-pregnancy. It looked decent, I thought. Then I braided my hair into an Orlesian braid, where you start the braiding near the top of the head. Those always looked very nice.

Afterward I went to see Varel and he handed me a note that was delivered that morning.

_Meet me at midnight behind the stables._

_Wolf_

"The Dark Wolf is dropping by to discuss things."

"When should we expect him?" Varel asked.

"I don't think this is a formal visit. I'm meeting him behind the stables. He's a bit shy."

Varel shook his head. "I don't know about this, Commander. I wouldn't trust him too far."

"I don't trust him." _I don't trust myself either._

_~o~o~o~_

I wrapped a thick, fur-lined cloak around myself and waited behind the stables. I should have changed back into my armor, but I didn't. I had been busy talking to the other three Wardens about Velanna and trying to come to a decision about her. Then it had been midnight and time to meet the Dark Wolf, so I grabbed a cloak and came out.

The wind gusted every now and then, flapping around the bottom of my cloak and scurrying under my gown. I really, really needed more trousers made for winter, this was just too cold. The moon was bright, but it was hiding behind clouds for the most part. When it came out and shone brightly, the trees cast shadows.

I didn't have to wait long until I heard someone clearing his throat behind me. I turned around and saw a man dressed in black, with a black bandanna tied over his hair, holes cut out for his eyes. I didn't recognize his face because I hadn't seen the whole of it, but I recognized the way he stood and carried himself.

"Wolf," I squeaked. "You startled me."

"My apologies, Commander. I would hate for you to fry me with a lightning bolt." There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

_He knows I'm a mage? _"I thought I paid you to spy on the conspirators, not on me." My voice was stern.

"I like to know who I'm doing business with. In your case, I get the feeling I don't really know. You're something of an enigma."

"I dare say, you know more about me than I do of you." I clutched my cloak closer to me and shivered with another gust. "Well, let's get on with it. I'm freezing. What have you found?"

"Ah, come with me, we can't have you freezing." He grabbed my hand and pulled me along behind him to a small shed and went inside. There was already a torch lit and a table improvised from some crates. "Please, be seated."

I sat on a crate on one side and he sat on the other side. There was a bottle of wine on the improvised table. "Wine?" he asked.

I noticed a pair of the keep's wine glasses sitting on the crate. "How'd you come by these?" I pointed at them.

"Your security is lax."

"I guess it must be." I picked up the glass and held it out for him to fill.

He poured generously and then brought out some papers from within his cuirass. "I've found a few things." He slapped the documents down on the table. "A name and a very interesting letter."

I picked up the letter and read it:

_Dear Lady Packton,_

_Please send the agreed upon amount to me immediately. Our circle of concerned friends has considerable expenses ahead and, if we wish to dispose of our problem, we have to pay upfront. We are counting on you, Liza. I'm sure with the bridge fees our mutual, but deceased, friend left you, you can meet your obligation._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Fellow Concerned Citizen_

"Where'd you find it?" I asked him.

"On a dead body, not far from Amaranthine. The messenger, presumably."

"Dead? How'd he die?" I asked.

"Not sure. He had been shot with arrows and sliced with a bladed weapon from the looks of it. But he hadn't been looted."

"It could have been darkspawn. Bandits would have looted him." I tapped my cheek with my finger, thinking. "Did he wear livery or have any identifying token on him?"

Wolf shook his head. "They were very careful to conceal his identity. However, his proximity to Amaranthine leads me to think..."

"Bann Esmerelle?" I interjected. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, there are other estates not much further away. It could be coincidence."

"I suppose so." I jumped to my feet, excited by a new thought. "However, I'm certain we have another conspirator too. Ser Temmerly is in my dungeon right now. Perhaps we could convince him that Liza Packton has rolled over on him."

"Rolled over?" he asked.

"Snitched. Finked. Informed on him."

"Ah!" He chuckled. "You have an interesting way of speaking." He got to his feet. "If I might suggest, perhaps you and I should visit this Ser Temmerly. He might be more intimidated by me than you and... I am good at getting people to talk, if I must say so myself."

"Fine. You can rough him up a little, but I draw the line at torture. Coerced confessions are worthless." I was adamant.

Wolf sighed. "You're as merciful as you are beautiful. Come, let's get started, it could take awhile."

_~o~o~o~_

Ser "Ox" wasn't such a hard nut to crack after all. When he'd heard that Liza had named him – our little lie – he spilled in return for exile rather than death. He gave us the names of a handful of nobles and a few wealthy merchants too. Bann Esmerelle's name was not amongst them, though, and that bothered me. I didn't think he was holding out on us, I just think he didn't know the top-tier of the conspiracy.

"Well, at least I know who to arrest now. Perhaps we can get more names once we start bringing them in." I said.

Wolf shook his head. "Oh no, not yet. We've only just begun to unravel this conspiracy. Right now it's this scrap of paper and Ser Temmerly's word. We can do much better than this. I'm sure I can get right to the top."

"How much time do you think we have before they'll act?" I asked. "I'd like to be around for my son's first birthday."

He took my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. "You will be, my lady. I swear it. I'll be in touch soon."

He turned and started to walk away. "Wolf?" I called after him.

He stopped and turned back. "My lady?"

"Will you keep my secrets?"

He smiled and bowed to me. "Every one of them."

I watched him disappear into the darkness and wondered what lay under that black mask. Did the rest of his face match the handsome jaw and finely crafted lips? This time I'd seen some wavy blond hair that curled around the strong column of his neck.

I shook myself out of my reverie and went inside the keep. Varel was waiting up for me in the great hall.

"Varel! Why are you still up? It's nearly dawn."

"I was worried. Your meeting took so long I was about to send out Garevel to look for you." His forehead was creased with concern.

I smiled at him gratefully. It had been a long time since I'd had a mother to worry about my late night returns. There was something rather familiar and comforting about it. "I'm sorry to have worried you. Wolf had found something interesting and we used it to question "The Ox". We got a lot of names out of him. It took a little while to wear him down and I don't think we've quite got everything... but it is enough to really begin unraveling this conspiracy."

Relief flooded his face. "Ah, good. I was afraid my leading you to the Dark Wolf might not have been such a good idea." He stood up and yawned. "Well, don't let me keep you up any longer. You must be exhausted. I, at least, got to doze off in my chair."

I couldn't help myself; Varel was such a sweet, good man. I gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Varel. For everything." I hurried away knowing I'd just embarrassed him. I ran upstairs, peeked in on Danny and then undressed and dove into bed as quickly as possible.

_~o~o~o~_

_Boom. Boom. Boom. The darkspawn war drums were getting louder. I could hear their voices. Voices? Darkspawn don't talk... oh wait they do now. Boom. Boom. Boom. _

Lucidity penetrated my dream. That wasn't a talking darkspawn, it was a talking Dalish elf. _Boom. Boom. Boom._ Someone banging on my door. "Commander! Get up, already. Make me a Grey Warden."

"What the fuck?" I growled. I had no idea what time it was, but I was very short on sleep. Then I remembered, I'd promised her an answer on the Joining today. I'd talked to the other three Wardens the night before. Anders was a _no_. Nathaniel was a _yes._ Oghren didn't give a damn. That meant I was the deciding vote.

My talk with Velanna hadn't moved me. Her motives were centered on her sister. I suspected once things were resolved with her, one way or the other, Velanna would be gone. That I could barely stand the woman, and that she seemed to have so little self-control over her tongue or actions, was a huge strike against her. Grey Wardens didn't need to be shining personalities, but they did need to be steady. Banging at the door of your Warden-Commander when she was trying to sleep was the clincher for me. Any indecision I had evaporated.

"Keep your pants on!" I called through the door while I got out of bed and pulled my robe on.

I flung open the door and saw a small crowd gathered in the hallway. Varel was there, so were the other Wardens and a couple of guards.

"I'm sorry, Commander, I tried to stop her..." Varel spoke first.

"It's time for me to drink your foul potion," she demanded. "You promised you would attend to this first thing this morning. Time is wasting while you sleep away the day!"

"I would have had the guards restrain her, but I didn't know if that would be appropriate," Varel continued.

Anders looked amused, and Oghren had a big smile on his face. Nathaniel was still staring at her cleavage. I think they were all hoping for a cat-fight. They would be disappointed.

I kept my voice passionless and calm. "Varel, please escort our guest to your study. I will be down in a few moments." I turned to Velanna and nodded to her respectfully. "I'll be with you momentarily."

"I've had enough waiting!" she yelled, as I shut the door in her face.

I tuned out the ruckus and spilled some hot water into a basin and washed up, then dressed. I hurried down the stairs to Varel's study. Best to get this over with quickly.

I strode in and shut the door behind me. Velanna was pacing and Varel was sitting patiently, trying not to glower, but not really succeeding. "I've decided to give you whatever supplies and provisions you need for the search for your sister, but you will not be becoming a Grey Warden," I said.

"What? No! I must take the Joining so I can track those beasts! I don't need to be a part of your stupid order, I just need to..."

Well, I was right. She had no desire to fit in or really work with us. "Velanna, do you have any idea what darkspawn do to women they capture? They turn them into broodmothers, great, bloated beasts that are continuously raped by darkspawn and give birth to more of the hideous creatures. Is that what you want? I've _seen _them! They should be a woman's worst nightmare!"

Velanna scoffed. "I know that your Joining potion leaves you infertile. I might be turned into a broodmother, but at least I wouldn't create more darkspawn."

"It was the old formula that did that. We have an improved potion now that removes some of the less desirable side-effects of the joining, including infertility. I had a son myself, as did the King. We were lucky to have had this new formula."

"Then give me the old formula! I don't care. I won't trouble you again." Her voice softened for the first time. "It's even more urgent I find my sister so she won't be turned into one of these nightmares. Please, Commander. I will beg if I must."

I looked at Varel and shrugged. "She knows the risks. Do you see any harm in it? We simply give her the potion and if she lives, she is free to pursue her sister."

Varel drew himself up. "I don't like it, but I can see her point. I think it is a passable solution."

"Very well. I'll make up the old formula and you may drink it, Velanna. You realize you could die and that your life will be shortened and you will be childless?"

She shook her head. "Just go make the potion."

I left the study and found Anders and got his help again. He was curious why we were using a different recipe this time and I explained.

"Maker that's so...brutal," he said.

"She knows exactly what she's doing. I can't have her join us, she's too unstable."

He nodded. "That's for sure. We might wake up with roots strangling us in the night."

I didn't mention it was just as likely that it might be me strangling her.

I took the completed potion downstairs and watched while she drank it. Varel stood by silently, not uttering the words he had been trained to speak. She would not be a Grey Warden in the sense of being a member of our team or order.

She collapsed and I caught her. We propped her up in a chair. "When she wakes give her whatever she requires. Within reason, of course."

Varel nodded. "As you wish, Commander."

My last glimpse of Velanna was her passed out on a chair in the study. If I were lucky, I would never see her again._ Here's hoping!_

_~o~o~o~_

**_Notes: _**_Fortunately my power came back on so I can post this today. I hear 5 million people in So. CA and parts of Arizona lost their power when I did. It was just a little weird because not even cell phones were working for awhile. It's really strange trying to figure out what to do with yourself when there's no power. It made me appreciate how incredibly valuable entertainment would have been to pre-electricity humans._

_My thanks to Biff McLaughlin who beta-read this for me and corrected a huge number of errors and even a couple of wobbles in the story. _

_And my thanks to all of you who read this, especially those of you who take the trouble to write reviews! You all are so awesome, I hope you know that._

_To those affected by Irene, I feel like such a wimp having had my power go out for a mere 12 hours or so. You have my admiration how you have suffered through such a catastrophe._


	6. Feed your Underlings, but not too well

_**Feed your Underlings, but not too well. ** A bit of hunger inspires hard work._

**Zevran**

The light was wrong, far too bright. _Where am I? _He turned his head and his gaze fell on billowing gauze curtains. The sky was too blue; the air too warm. _Where is Lucia?_

He came to himself as if from miles away. _Antiva, not Ferelden. _Memories began filtering back to him, but he still didn't recognize this place. The last thing he remembered was climbing into a hay wagon.

He silenced his thoughts for a moment; listening and smelling for clues. _This is not Antiva City._ It was far too quiet, and he heard the ocean. Antiva City was on the sea, yes, but not so close you could hear it, except near the docks, and this place didn't smell of desperation, rotten fish, and corrupt harbor masters.

He pushed up onto his elbows and took in his surroundings: A small house; the furnishings decidedly feminine. His head throbbed with the effort and he sagged back into the bed.

"Ah! You're awake," a cheerful female voice said. The woman bustled over to him. Her bracelets clattering as she walked.

He had to look twice, so closely did she resemble his Lucia. She had the same sort of unruly russet hair, dark brown eyes, strong eyebrows, a fine nose and full red lips, but there were small differences. This woman had generous curves, a bosom threatening to escape from her corset, and a bottom to match. She possessed nothing of Lucia's muscular contours. "I... Who are you? How did I get here?"

She clucked her tongue at him. "Relax, my little sparrow. You've been very, very sick. I am Nicola, and you, my pretty bird, were found broken in an alleyway. You were three breaths away from dying, I think." She bustled around the room and picked up a bowl filled with water and brought it to him. She sat beside the bed and dipped a cloth into the bowl and wiped his face.

"Nice, no?" She smiled prettily at him. "Yes, three breaths away from dying, and now you are much better." She barely paused for a breath. "I dared to use some magic to give you another breath when you drew your last one, then a bit more to have another breath after that. The Maker must be very happy with you, he didn't send the templars after me."

"Thank you, Nicola," Zevran said, his voice hoarse from disuse. He closed his eyes part of the way and tried to pretend she was Lucia. The trick worked for a moment. "Where is this place?"

"Vicenza, a little north of Rialto. We are just a small fishing village." She finished bathing his face and stood. "You must eat. You've languished here a week now, you need your strength back." The house was quite small, from what he could see, with a tiny kitchen. "I have some fish chowder for you." She laughed. Her laugh had a coarseness to it, nothing like Lucia's. "We always have fish chowder, of course." She brought him a bowl steaming with soup. "Can you sit up?"

He pushed himself up. His head throbbed but he could do it. She arranged the pillows behind his back to support him. "Molto bene. Now, eat! Mangia!"

Zevran tentatively spooned some of the fish chowder into his mouth. The hot peppers left a pleasant burn in his mouth and down his throat. He sighed with delight. The rest of the bowl soon followed and Nicola came back with more food.

"Fish cakes and fried plantains," she said handing him the plate. "Mangia! Your patrono wants to see you whole and healthy."

Zevran almost dropped the plate. "My patrono?"

"Si," Nicola said. "My Ignacio. He wants you to be healthy again. He even gave me ten gold reals to see that you had anything you wanted. He is the one who brought you to me. He comes to see me frequently. A very nice man. He bought me this house."

_What does Ignacio want with me?_ Apparently Lucia had made an impression on him. His mistress looked so much like her. "Where is Ignacio now?"

Nicola shrugged. "I do not ask. There are some things I do not want to know about such a nice man. All I know is you must get strong and I am here to see to _all _of your needs."

The way she said "all" made it clear that she meant _all. _His mind raced. What did Ignacio hope to get from him? There would be a price to pay for having saved his life, no doubt about it. Was it by intention that Ignacio had a woman here that was nearly his Lucia's double? He shivered to think about Ignacio touching Lucia. _The weasel! I would kill him._ It was bad enough that he put his hands on a facsimile of her.

Ignacio easily might have killed him rather than save him. Whatever Ignacio wanted, Zevran would listen. In Ferelden, during the Blight, he'd seen Ignacio around. Sometimes Lucy went to the stall he shared with Cesar and bought items Zevran needed. They hadn't said much to one another, aside from pleasantries, but clearly Ignacio had been paying close attention to her.

Zevran devoured the fish cakes and plantains and his eyes followed Nicola as she puttered about her small house chatting continuously. He squinted his eyes, changed her voice, changed her figure and then he fell asleep and dreamed of Lucia. Once more he was enveloped in a cloud of red hair, musky, sweet fragrance and red, red lips descending on his.

**Nathaniel**

He held the note between his finger, musing. A little cryptic, but it wouldn't take much imagination to figure out that Bann Esmerelle had written the missive. She wanted to talk to him again. Tonight. He must start out soon to make the assignation in time. Then again, this note in his commander's hands might be enough to incriminate Esmerelle in the conspiracy.

"_Nathaniel, leave us," Lucy had said, interposing her body between him and her brother. _

Lucy risked her life for him. Maybe she knew Fergus well enough to know he wouldn't strike her. She had the unquestioning support of the monarchy and Teyrn Loghain, after all. Fergus wasn't so much of a mad dog to forget that even in his dire rage. If he killed her, he'd hang for it, no doubt; not much of a risk.

Then she tried to buy his acceptance with gifts. The bow, the locksmith tools, all had been chosen thoughtfully. More evidence of her coldly calculating mind.

_She murdered my father in cold blood because she was play-acting! _

He picked up the note from Esmerelle, tossed it into the fire, and watched the flames consume the evidence.

_She murdered my father._

He threw on his cloak and went for a bracing walk into the cold, late autumn air, keeping his appointment with the Bann.

~o~o~o~

"Nathaniel!" Bann Esmerelle gushed when they met at the designated spot, a couple of miles away from the keep. "I'm so glad you came! I haven't forgotten our conversation. I still intend to see the Vigil back in your family's hands. In _your_ hands."

Nathaniel nodded. The promise felt hollow. The Vigil belonged to the Wardens and would never be his, not really. Besides, it wasn't the Vigil he wanted, it was revenge. "What do you need of me, Bann Esmerelle?"

She smiled graciously. "Just call me, Esme. That's what your father always called me."

Her smile made him a little sick. He didn't like thinking of his father with this woman.

"I want information on your Commander. Did you discover who fathered her bastard?"

"He's not a bastard. She told us, finally. She married another Grey Warden during the Blight and he is the father. He was the one who fell."

Esmerelle bit her lip. "Well, damnation! So the two heroes had wed. What a pretty story. What about her sexual appetites? I hear that Grey Wardens – forgive me, Nate – are creatures with unnatural urges. Is she sleeping with anyone? Copulating with mabari? Has she done anything indiscreet?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "If she has, I'm not aware of it."

"Well, a few well-placed rumors about her unnatural appetites certainly won't hurt. What about magic? After the Blight there were rumors she was seen using magic. What have you seen, Nate?"

_Ah, now we come down to a real choice._ _I can destroy her facade, reveal her as the mage she is and expose her lies for what they are. _"What does it matter? If I say 'no' you'll simply spread the rumor anyway."

Esmerelle nodded. "Yes, but I prefer to have a source."

Nathaniel hated Lucy, true, but he didn't like Esmerelle... Esme._ S_he turned his stomach. "I haven't seen her using magic." _Why do I lie now__? _he wondered. His father had always had troubles with rumormongers. They were a coward's way to fight.

"There is one last thing, darling Nate."

His skin crawled when she called him "darling".

"Could you see that two new servants are added to the staff in the keep? One will be an upstairs maid, a woman. The other is a man. He can work in the kitchens or stables. You could claim they were your devoted servants and need the jobs."

"Assassins?" Nathaniel asked.

"Of course, darling! Crows even. We're hiring the very best."

"When?" he asked.

"They should be arriving within a few weeks."

"I'll do what I can. Have them identify themselves to me."

"You're a sweet boy. Your father would be proud." She reached out a hand and patted him on the cheek, as if he were ten years old.

He turned abruptly and walked back to the Vigil. _Your father would be proud._ Proud? Of him conspiring to assassinate someone? _Was__ my father truly the sort of man to be proud of something like that?_

**Lucy**

Things were getting crazy busy. When was life here not crazy busy? But this was getting worse. The workload was immense. I had a conspiracy to unravel, talking darkspawn to fight, and a haunted marsh to explore. At least I had my health, and if you've got your health, why, you have everything! Everything except what I really wanted: Zevran, time with my son, and a quiet life.

Today we would go to Amaranthine again to attend to unfinished business. I needed to report back about the trade route to the merchant guild leader there, but the real reason I was going was for Nathaniel. I suspected he desperately wanted to see his sister, although he hadn't said a word to me. I thought we'd gotten to a point in our relationship where he might talk to me of such things. I was disappointed. Would I ever repair our relationship so that he would trust me, confide in me and put away his animosity? He was doing well, superficially at least, but I suspected hidden resentment remained.

Still, I saw the happiness on his face last night as I announced our destination for the day. He was the first one ready to go. He even had the horses prepared. Unfortunately, my sweet mare had been lost during our trip to Wending Woods, so I was riding a new horse this time. Anders got up on the horse behind me once again and Oghren doubled up with Nathaniel.

"How are things with you and Daisy?" I asked Anders as he balanced behind me. "She seems like a nice girl." I was fairly certain Anders had been seeing her. I think it was her room I caught him coming out of that one morning, in her dressing gown no less. I still wondered about that.

"You'll have to ask Nathaniel about her. She seems to prefer him to me." His voice sounded light, as if he was unconcerned.

"Really? I thought you two..."

"Not for a few weeks now."

"Well, is there a replacement in the works? What about Penny? I've seen her give you _that_ look."

Anders scoffed. "_That _look is the _don't take your eyes off the mage because he's going to turn into an abomination at any second _look."

"No!" I protested. "Really?"

"Really," Anders said dryly. "I never realized how terrible it'd be outside the tower, in that respect anyway."

"Bendrick said something about that," I mused. "Hey, did you know Bendrick?"

"Bendrick? Hell yeah! He was a little older than me, but we hung out together. It's been years though... Where do you know him from? Oh wait... he was a Grey Warden too, wasn't he?"

I nodded. Even after more than two years now, I still felt a pang when I thought of him. "We met at Ostagar. I only knew him a few days but... we got close."

"Oh, Maker! He was at Ostagar, of course. All the Wardens died, didn't they? Poor Bendrick, he certainly was a popular fellow with the ladies at the tower."

"I can certainly see why," I said warmly, remembering our brief affair which ended with us declaring our love for one another after a mere three days.

"So... you and Bendrick?" he said.

I nodded.

"He was a lucky man, then," Anders said.

"He died," I pointed out. "That wasn't lucky."

"Ah, but I bet he died a very happy man."

I laughed and was seized by a careless mood. "Hang on, Anders. You need some excitement in your life!" I kicked this new mare, whom I also named Buttercup, into a bouncy canter.

Anders gave a long, savage yell, tightened his arms around my waist and laughed wildly.

_Why was I enjoying this so much?_

_~o~o~o~_

Anders needed pants and he had to get rid of that stupid hat he wore sometimes. His outfit screamed "I'm a mage!" Truthfully, he looked like a Comic-Con attendee. One who should have done less, much less. He needed to man it up. Pants, definitely, and perhaps the robe could be redesigned into some sort of overcoat or tunic. Lyrium fibers were woven into the fabric, but would restyling affect the magical properties? I doubted it. I needed to find a seamstress for myself anyway; I needed to expand my wardrobe.

I asked around in Amaranthine and found a pair of seamstresses who worked together. They were interested in relocating to the Vigil. I assured them we would have plenty of work, but if not, a thriving marketplace had sprung up outside the keep. I even offered to let them live in the keep until they established themselves. I had a deliciously evil moment of delight when I found they were Bann Esmerelle's favorite seamstresses and I would be stealing them right out from under her nose. I gave them enough money to cover the expenses of the move and I got them started on making some new dresses for me.

The Wardens had lunch together in the city. Afterward, I let everyone shift for themselves until sunset. We would have dinner and head home. It might be a little dangerous at night on the roads, but I thought we could handle almost anything we were likely to meet.

**Nathaniel**

_Delilah lives here?_ Nathaniel double checked the address that Samuel had given him. This was little more than a hovel. Well, all right, a house, tidy enough, and not altogether small. Perhaps the dwelling of a merchant; not a rich one, but not poor. Still, this was so wrong. They were Howes!

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and knocked. "I'm coming! Give me a moment." He heard his sister's voice.

She opened the door and gasped. "Nathaniel? Maker, is it you?" She choked out a sob. "It is you!"

"Delilah! I thought you were..." Nathaniel's voice caught his throat.

"Dead? I thought you were! Oh Nate!" She hugged him and tears rolled down her face onto his sleeve. "Well, come on in. I'd introduce you to Albert, my husband, but he's at the market."

Nathaniel followed her in and they sat at a well-worn table. She poured tea for him.

"Delilah..." Nathaniel took in the small dining room. "I know times must have been hard, but you can do better than this. Come back to the estate until we find somewhere else."

"What?" She laughed, her laugh sounding happy, like he remembered from years ago. "Oh, Nate, I didn't marry Albert out of desperation. I adore him! I was so glad to get away from Father's evil. This life is so much better."

"Father's evil? Isn't that overstating things a little? He got caught up in politics." Nathaniel shook his head, not believing his sister.

Delilah sighed. She put a hand over her brothers. "You weren't here. You didn't see what he did, Nate."

"But the Couslands deserved it... Elissa killed him!" He almost laughed at himself, using Lucy's assumed identity in front of his own sister, but was easier than trying to explain. "She destroyed our family!"

Delilah's face grew stony. "You want the culprit who destroyed our family? It was him, without question."

Nathaniel listened to her, the words puddling on the surface of his mind, only seeping in. _Father. Evil. Father destroyed our family. _"I had no idea," he murmured, still disbelieving.

Delilah's gave a bitter, little laugh. "Of course you did, but you always worshiped father, right from the time you were a little boy."

His head drooped a little and he stared at the table. "Father never approved of me. It was always Thomas with him." Having been rejected by his father had always made his father seem so powerful, so unerring and right, and him so utterly wrong. He was unworthy of his father's love; at least it felt that way.

She shook her head. "Don't you see? You always tried so hard to win his approval and he never gave it to you. You refused to see anything wrong with him, but he was a greedy, grasping, ambitious man. He never gave a second thought to what would become of us if his schemes should fail."

Nathaniel let Delilah do most of the talking for the next several hours and the words began to reach him. His father was evil. _He had deserved to die..._

~o~o~o~

… _but not by her hand. Not to a woman who pretended __to be someone else. _

He signaled the bartender to pour him another drink. The bar started to fill as the sun went down. Dock hands, laborers, a few smugglers, or worse, frequented this bar. He only wanted to go somewhere he wouldn't be recognized as... a Howe.

He slammed down this shot too and asked the bartender to leave the bottle. He was beyond drunk already, but still conscious. _That can be fixed. _He dispensed with the glass and drank out of the bottle.

Someone must have recognized his Howe profile as he tilted up the bottle for a drink. He stood out in this bar full of riff-raff with his fine armor and aristocratic face.

"... old Arl Howe's pup, ain't it? Thomas? He was always drinking and carrying on like he owned the place."

"He did own the place."

"Oh right. Well, still..."

"Them Howes are all dead, only this one forgot to lay still."

"Har! Let's remind him!"

He moved too slowly when hands pulled him out of his chair and the fists flew. He couldn't focus his eyes, he was far too drunk. They pushed him from man to man and each one took a swing. All the hatred they ever had of his family, of their betters, they took out on him. He was too drunk to fight back, so he threw his arms in front of his face.

"He can't even fight! He's a coward just like his da. Beaten at the Landsmeet by a woman!"

"Well, it was that Hero of Ferelden. She killed the danged archdemon, ya fool, of course she cudda killed the old arl."

Nathaniel's face dripped blood. In this condition, all he could do was cower away from the punches. They were right, all of them right. _I'm a Howe. My blood is tainted with something worse than darkspawn._

Another blow landed, this one on his nose. His vision grew blessedly dark and the pain went away.

**Lucy**

We waited for Nathaniel, but he didn't show up. There was enough food for him, in case he showed up a little later, but he never did appear.

"He's probably eating with his sister," Anders suggested, before stuffing himself with hunks of deer sausage and roasted beets.

"I suppose, but he should have sent word." I hated tardiness. Punctuality is difficult in a world with few clocks. Still, things like sunset, dawn and noon were fairly easy to figure out. Dinner at sunset was an obvious enough thing.

We ate far too much food, even for us, since we had Nathaniel's unclaimed portion to polish off. A tankard of ale apiece washed our supper down. We devoured three entire pans full of apple Brown Betty and another tankard of ale each, except Oghren who had at least four.

I groaned. "Maker, don't ever let me do that again. I think riding is going to make me sick."

"Well, Nathaniel isn't even here, so it doesn't seem like we're going anywhere soon," Oghren grumbled. "Do you think they've got any more of that apple stuff in the kitchen?"

I nearly gagged at the thought of more food, no matter how wonderful. "Where is that wascally wabbit?" I asked. I started to worry. Perhaps Nathaniel had decided he'd had enough of us and had taken off with his sister. Maybe something had happened to him? I wasn't going to wait any longer. "We need to find him."

"Shouldn't we should get rooms for the night, Commander?" Anders suggested. "It's pretty late to start out and who knows how late it might be when we finally find him. This place may fill up their rooms."

I frowned, my irritation growing. I had planned to be back with Daniel this evening. Oh well, even if we had traveled back he would be asleep by now. "All right." I sighed and got up to ask for the rooms. The innkeeper was pleased we were staying, but the kitchen staff was not quite so happy. "We'll want a full Warden breakfast at dawn tomorrow," I warned the innkeeper. "I'd also like some Antivan coffee with my breakfast. The Antivan import merchant should have some in stock by now."

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Commander. Always a pleasure to have you."

"Send the cook out to me, if you would."

I waited while he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the cook. "I want to thank you personally. Your cooking is very, very good. Please, take this and share with the staff." I handed him fifty silver in a small bag.

"Thank you, Warden-Commander! My lady, thank you!" the cook seemed delighted with the tip. "It is a pleasure to cook for the Wardens, always!"

"Excellent! Don't forget my coffee in the morning! I like it piping hot, but be sure it doesn't boil, that will make it bitter."

"Yes, my lady! A pleasure!"

Well, we were an appreciative audience for anyone with the task of cooking for us. I know the amounts it took to fill our bellies was unreasonable, so it only made sense to reward those tasked with the job. I took my leave of the kitchen staff and motioned for my Wardens to come with me. We had a wayward brother to find. I could make it a teachable moment.

"All right, I haven't really taught you how to use our Warden abilities to find one another, but I'd like you to try while we're looking for Nathaniel. Imagine that you're searching for a particular smell, you concentrate on that and block out the others. It's like sensing darkspawn, only you purposefully expand your senses. The sensation is different than darkspawn, but similar. We seem more _right._ That's the only way I can describe it."

I shut up and let them try.

"I smell horse shit," Oghren said.

"That's nice, Oghren, but we're not concerned with smells, but sensing each other. I can sense the two of you walking next to me right now, if I try. I'm not sensing Nathaniel though. Either he's far away or..." I stopped talking, remembering the last time I stopped sensing a Warden.

"Or?" Anders prompted me.

"Or dead," Oghren finished the sentence for me.

"Yeah," I said flatly. I walked on a few steps trying to summon the courage to remember. "When Riordan fell... it just..." I turned my head aside so they wouldn't see the tears welling up.

Anders threw an arm around me and squeezed me. "It's okay, Commander."

"I'm all right." I bit my lip and that forced the thought away. "There's another thing we can do." A subject change was needed. "I can call to you through the taint. It feels rather strange." I demonstrated by calling to them.

Anders stopped walking and practically twitched. "Sweet Maker! That's sooooo... It's like an itch you want to scratch but you can't reach."

Oghren got glassy-eyed. "By the ancestor's stony balls, that makes me horny!"

"And... now you're sharing just a little too much, Oghren," Anders said.

I shut off the call immediately. "Uh, right. Use sparingly." I laughed remembering the first time I'd experienced the call. I told them how Riordan had called us to him from Arl Howe's dungeon. "Alistair and I went crazy trying to figure out how to get into the dungeon. He tried to batter down the door with his shoulder while I cast spells, trying to open it. Someone else, fortunately, had the mental capacity to find a key."

We walked to Delilah's house and she reported her brother had left hours ago. "I should go with you. I only just found him, I can't lose him now."

"We'll find him, Delilah. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" I put my hand on her shoulder hoping to reassure her.

She shook her head. "I don't know. He seemed a little dazed. I talked to him about father and... I think he had a hard time accepting it."

I thanked her. I decided we would make a loop around the city. We started our search for Nathaniel at the docks. Luck was with us as we headed toward the docks and I sensed him. "I've got him," I said. We walked into a seedy, rundown neighborhood.

"Why would he come here?" Anders asked. "Maybe I don't want to know..."

I followed my sense of Nathaniel until we were nearly out of town and then he was right at our feet, lying in a shallow ditch.

Anders kindled a light and we saw that he had been beaten to a bloody pulp, was unconscious and had blood running out of his mouth and nose.

"Sweet Maker," I breathed.

Anders knelt beside him and pumped healing spells into him. I joined him over our broken comrade. What all had been done to him, I couldn't even begin to catalog, but I knew whoever did this meant to leave him to die here.

"He's drunk," Anders said, "and he has a laceration to the liver, kidney damage, four broken ribs, broken nose, and a punctured lung. You can see what they did to his face."

We did everything we could there. Anders ran out of mana and my healing wasn't good enough to take care of some of the problems. At least he was groaning, his consciousness returning.

"Commander..." Nathaniel moaned. "I'm sorry..." he coughed. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Don't worry, Nathaniel. We're going to get you all fixed up."

Oghren and I searched around the docks until we found someone with a horse and cart. We hired him to haul Nathaniel back to the inn and rode in the cart next to him. Oghren and Anders carried him up to his room and Anders went back to healing him.

He finished the healing with a sleep spell, wanting to make certain Nathaniel had a sound night's sleep. We spoke briefly about him in the hallway.

"Is he going to be all right?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. He should be all fine to ride home tomorrow. He's lost some blood, but not too much," Anders said.

I smiled at him. "You know, you're even more awesome at healing than Wynne, and she was damned good!"

He smiled at me. "Aw, Commander! You're embarrassing me."

"I don't know what we'd do without you, Anders." I was so grateful to him for being such a good friend and an amazing healer. I wanted to hug him, but I realized it would be awkward, so I shook his hand instead, and that was even weirder. "Well, goodnight then!"

Anders stood in the hallway and watched me walk to my room. I waved, like a dork, just before I went inside. I wasn't exactly sure of the nature of his expression, but I think he needed a hug and I wanted to give it to him. He was my closest friend, the one person who best understood and accepted me, and I couldn't express the affection I had for him because he was my subordinate. _I hate being in charge._

We rode back to the keep the next day and Anders put Nathaniel through one more healing session before he pronounced him "good enough". Nathaniel never mentioned a word about what had happened or why he was even in that dreadful part of town alone at night. I wished he would open up to someone, even if it wasn't me.

_~o~o~o~_

A few days later fifty soldiers arrived; twenty from the royal army and the rest from Loghain's forces. Unfortunately Loghain wasn't with them, but he sent a lieutenant I knew he trusted. He was always in Loghain's personal guard when he came to visit me at the Gnawed Noble, which seemed another life time now.

The lieutenant saluted me formally. "King Alistair and Teyrn Loghain have sent troops for you, Warden-Commander, and messages as well."

I nodded and accepted the letters. "Very well. Please report to Captain Garevel and he'll figure out how to deploy your troops. We're spread very thin between the keep, Amaranthine, and the trade route, although I believe we've fixed a lot of the issues around Wending Woods." Getting rid of Velanna had been a good start, but darkspawn still preyed on travelers and merchants.

Loghain's lieutenant went into the keep and spoke at length with Garevel. Meanwhile, I began planning our next steps. We had to get to the bottom of this talking darkspawn issue. Either we should go to the Blackmarsh and look for the Warden Kristoff, or head to the abyss that the deer hunters had found.

_Heads: Blackmarsh. Tails: Strange hole in the ground._

The coin landed with the picture of Maric up. It would be the Blackmarsh next. _Marsh... bog... bogged down... enmired... Argh!_

**Translations**

_Molto bene_: Very well  
><em>Mangia<em>: Eat

_~o~o~o~_

**_Notes: _**_There, you see? I didn't kill off Zev... yet. Bwahahaha!_

_Thank you very much, reviewers. I appreciate the feedback more than I can say. I'll be curious what you all think of this chapter, writing-wise. I ran it through a tool called Autocrit and it pointed out things like redundancies and helped me find overused words and phrases. It also pointed out a lot of passive voice. It is exhausting to rewrite a lot though so I started off very enthusiastically trying to tune things and I got a bit less picky as the chapter went on. It may be easier to do it in chunks as I go rather than doing the whole thing at the end._

_I'm going to **try** to put up a new chapter every Friday. I'm sure as I say this I, or my lovely beta-reader, Biff McLaughlin, will become super busy and we'll miss the schedule. So don't hold me to it too closely, but just know this is my goal. _

_I'm plugging away on Chapter 8 right now. The muse is sluffing off a bit and my writing speed as slowed, so my chapter buffer may erode unless she comes back in full force._

_I've been asked this a lot so I think I'll answer these questions here._

_Will we ever know Daniel's father?  
><em>_No, unfortunately not with certainty. There was no paternity testing available back then. Although perhaps with magical means there is, but I don't think Lucy really wants to know. She likes to think Daniel is Riordan's, but she also likes it that Loghain takes interest in him. You can never have to many fathers for a child... well, at least not in this work of fiction where the potential fathers are heroes and all around good-guys. The kid could even be Zevran's if he had dark haired ancestors, but the physical resemblance, so far, is more like Loghain or Riordan._

_Is the Dark Wolf someone we know?  
>Nope! He's a totally made up character. I wrote a fiction once where he was a leading character and I have loved him ever since ("The Wolf Pact"). It isn't my best writing, but I still love the plot and characters. Anyway, the whole idea of this audacious guy whole <strong>steals<strong> the name from the rogue Warden just tickles me. That and showing up in Amaranthine with a bucket (almost) on his head, is too wonderful to pass up. So I made up someone to play the role. You'll learn more about him in the next chapter._


	7. How to Deal With Sedition

**How to Deal with Sedition**

_Every Arl must deal with the inevitable rumors. Whether they're the result of political maneuvering, disgruntled serfs, or drunken rantings; sedition must be brutally squelched. Make an example of the instigator else your command will erode._

**_Caution: _**_Naked people romping within. Close your eyes while you read this, unless... cough... you enjoy reading such things. You pervert!_

**Zevran**

He was still half asleep when she straddled him with her nightgown hiked up to her hips. Her hot, wet core lay on top of the light fabric of his sleeping pants. She reached between his legs and stroked his cock. He could fully open his eyes and shrug off the sleep or stay like this and imagine...

"Lucia," he moaned and ground his pelvis against her. Some of her warm dampness soaked into his trousers.

She leaned forward and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. Her hair fell around him in a familiar red cloud. He pushed her off him with one hand and with the other untied the string on his breeches and freed his stiffening cock.

It was her, but not her. Nicola's curves were soft and voluptuous; Lucia's were sculpted and angular. She didn't smell like Lucy, either. Her scent was like everything in this fishing village, faintly fishy, although not unpleasantly so. The face, hair, and eyes, all so similar to Lucia's. He slipped a pair of fingers into her. She was wet, very wet. His thumb worked her pearl until she raised her hips into the air and moaned. She sounded nothing like Lucia either. He wrapped her legs around his waist and thrust into her, staring at her face, willing himself to believe.

His pace was gentle at first, then harder. Nicola grew flushed, clutching his back with her sharp nails, urging him on. Zevran used all his tricks on Nicola, no need to draw this out. Few women could climax as many times as his Lucia, and, frankly, he didn't even want to try.

"_Damn__it, __Zevran, __I __was __there! __Just __get __to __it, __already, __you __tease,__" _she would say.

"_Tsk, __tsk, __tesora. __I __haven't __heard __you __beg __yet. __You're __not __ready.__"_

He loved to hear the exasperation in Lucia's voice as she begged him for release. Ah, the games they played and how he missed them.

He held back until Nicola was done, then he concentrated on finding his own release. It was a relief, of sorts, but the physical closeness to this woman stirred other longings that mere pleasure couldn't satisfy.

"May I stay with you tonight, pretty bird?" Nicola asked. "My big bed is lonely."

"If you wish," Zevran replied. As her guest, who was he to deny her? He didn't wish to cuddle, but he didn't push her away when she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"You called me, Lucia, little bird. Who is she?"

"She is the woman I love, the Hero of Ferelden," Zevran said. He wanted to go back to sleep and hoped that Nicola would be still soon.

"The Hero of... but I thought she was Elissa? Is Lucia her pet name?"

"Yes. I call her Lucia."

Nicola was silent a moment. "Do I remind you of her?"

"Yes, you look like her."

"Perhaps that is why Ignacio calls me Elissa sometimes?"

Zevran groaned and rolled away, not wanting to be reminded that Ignacio was sleeping with this faux-Lucy.

"What is wrong, little bird?"

"Go to sleep, Nicola," he told her. _Shut__up, _he thought.

She sighed and retreated to her side of the bed.

_~o~o~o~_

Ignacio stared at Zevran from beneath his hooded eyes. "I hope you have been comfortable. You are much healthier now than when I last checked on you. Nicola took good care of you?"

Zevran nodded warily, staring at Ignacio. Perhaps now he would find out what motive this Crow master had for keeping him alive. "I'm much improved, but the question remains, why? I am certain returning me to Maestro Armand would have made you a great deal of money. Surely, you know what harboring me would mean if he found out."

"Of course, I do." Ignacio pressed his fingertips together. "Armand is weakened, thanks to you," he nodded at Zevran, "so now he allies with Bernardo's cell to catch you. Only, I know this – Bernardo means to take over Armand's cell. He is too spent to defend against Bernardo.

Zevran laughed. "Armand is a fool to trust Bernardo."

Ignacio smiled. "Armand is a fool, but not because he trusts Bernardo. He is a fool because he trusts me."

Zevran cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he suspects that Bernardo will try to seize his flock, so I'm going to help him defend it." Ignacio stopped and tapped his fingertips together. "This struggle will weaken them both. Between you and me, we will take them both."

"Ignacio, you are a sly weasel. Why do you need me?"

"You ask a lot of questions for a dead man," Ignacio replied, his eyes cold.

"What do you want from me? You're not doing this out of charity."

The Crow master shrugged. "You will be helping to divert attention away from what I'm doing."

Zevran felt there had to be more. "All right, so I'm a timely diversion, nice but hardly necessary. What haven't you told me?"

A half-smile played on the corner of Ignacio's lips. "Perhaps the Hero of Ferelden would be grateful for her lover to return to her in something other than a cinerary urn."

Zevran's eyes grew cold. "If you think for one moment that I would let you touch her..."

Ignacio blinked in surprise and held up his hands. "Touch her? Zevran, you misunderstand my interest. Having someone in Ferelden in my debt can only be a benefit. Perhaps, one day, she and I can do a little business."

Zevran's suspicions didn't recede far. "Then explain Nicola! Why is your mistress nearly a copy of her."

Ignacio shrugged. "I fancy her. What is the harm in a little make-believe? Besides, she may come in handy someday if I ever need a double of the Hero of Ferelden."

"If you're playing me false..."

"Eh, enough with the suspicions, Zevran. I am being honest with you, sometimes it's necessary. You help me, I help you. A very powerful woman in Ferelden will be grateful, no? We work together, you can be home and see your bambino for the first time, eh?"

Zevran chewed his lip. "Have you heard anything about her?"

"Not much. I don't have eyes in Ferelden right now, but I have ears there. They tell me things. After Bernardo and Armand fall, I can afford to send some Crows. For now, though, I heard your woman had a son, and she is the Warden-Commander, in charge of the Arling of Amaranthine."

_A__son!_ For the first time in months his heart lightened and he saw something more than a lonely death in his future. Ignacio couldn't be trusted further than he could spit a rat, but perhaps he was telling the truth.

"Well, whoreson? Do we have a deal?"

Zevran nodded and stuck his hand out.

The two men shook hands. Such a handshake might mean anything: Treachery, honest agreement or nothing more than two palms pressing together for a moment. Zevran prayed Ignacio was being honest.

**Lucy**

We got bogged down in the Blackmarsh just as I feared. For over a week we were stuck there, then in the Fade, but we came back with a weird prize of sorts: Kristoff's reanimated corpse with a spirit of Justice inside it. He helped us against the Baroness and, when he was pulled into our world accidently, he seemed at a loss for what to do. I suggested fighting against darkspawn would be a worthy undertaking; he agreed.

At least he wouldn't have to take the joining, since Kristoff was already a Warden. Although, if you asked me what exactly Kristoff had in his veins, I couldn't have answered. Wouldn't the blood have clotted and dried up a little? I wondered how the decomposition would progress. Perhaps he was only mostly dead. I needed to find a Miracle Max to make me a pill that would bring him back from the dead. Maybe Anders could fix him up with a preservation spell, like they did with the archdemon blood to keep it fresh. Or couldn't we pack him into a coffin filled with salt to pickle him. _Time __for __your __weekly __pickling, __Justice!_

Frankly, I liked Wynne's spirit a lot better. Justice was just so hardcore sometimes. I could imagine him running "People's Court"; he would probably sentence someone to the death penalty. He saw things in black and white; grey and colors confused him. He started to jump on me about the injustice of taking over Elissa's body. I muddied up the subject by telling him that I didn't ask for it to happen. I was as much a victim as she was. It became a favorite pastime for me to give Justice cases that couldn't be decided. I was determined to teach him that justice was not a binary condition. By the time we got back to the Vigil, I think I'd actually messed his head up some.

Nathaniel acted oddly during this trip. Sometimes he would open up a little and talk about his childhood, then he'd withdraw. He seemed to be in the midst of an internal struggle. At night, by the fire, I'd think about his daddy issues and try to see things as he did. I was someone who truly didn't have that large of a grudge against his father, other than the fact he tried to kill me, but I'd pretended to be a woman who had been terribly wronged by him. I had exacted vengeance in her name. How would that make me feel, if I were in his shoes?

I could understand his point of view. Rendon Howe had been his dad. I'd had a dad that had been a genuinely good guy, but what if I found out he had a less-than-stellar side? I'd still have had years of love and affection for the man that just couldn't be erased that quickly. The tragedy was that Nathaniel and his sister were victims of their father's greed and ambition, too.

I felt like I owed Nathaniel an apology and decided I had to give it to him. One night, while he was on watch, I crawled out of my tent to talk to him. "Nathaniel," I spoke low, remembering that tents didn't actually block much sound. "Can we talk for a moment?"

He nodded.

We walked a little way from the tents.

"I want to apologize to you." _Sorry, __I __killed __your __dad, _just didn't sound all that great_, _but maybe the six-fingered man should have said it to Inigo Montoya. "I... I have been thinking about what happened... with your father and me." I sighed. "I never thought about your father having children, or what they might think. I never thought any further than the story I had been told about the Couslands, or the things I saw in your father's dungeon, what was done to Riordan there, or that he'd tried to kill us."

"Commander..." Nathaniel said.

"No, let me finish." I held up my hand. "I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. I thought I owed it to Elissa to exact vengeance for her. I felt guilty, even though it wasn't my fault that she died. I think I was wrong. I should have let things take their course. Perhaps he would be alive today, if I had."

"Commander..."

"No. Let me finish, please. I can only imagine how I would feel if someone had robbed me of my father. I'm so sorry, Nathaniel."

He turned away from me a moment then turned back. A tortured look contorted his face. "My father wasn't a good man. He was an evil man. I know that now." He rubbed his cheeks. "Maker! He tortured your husband?"

"Well, it was shortly before I met him, but we found him in your father's dungeons." His face contorted even more, trying to contain some emotion. "Nathaniel it wasn't your fault!" I grasped his arm and tried to comfort him.

"If I hadn't been in the Free Marches... there might have been something I could have done."

"Oh Nathaniel, don't blame yourself." I could feel the bitterness pouring off him.

"Just... leave me be, Commander. I need to think." His face looked haggard and weary.

I nodded grimly and went back to my tent. I felt miserable. I just wanted to make things right for Nathaniel, but I had to admit there was little I could do. It took me a long time to fall asleep.

His gloom began to lift a little when we left Blackmarsh, but leaving that dreary place had an uplifting effect on all of us. By the time we got back to the Vigil, Nathaniel seemed changed. He would never be ebullient, but I would describe him as contented, even a little more animated.

**Nathaniel**

After seeing Delilah, Nathaniel began to accept that his father was an evil man. The process took a few weeks, but now he didn't fault Lucy for killing him. Some of the details he had heard of the people his father imprisoned and tortured, and the supposed crimes they'd committed, turned his stomach. Lucy's deceased husband had even been one of his victims. He couldn't completely blame her for wishing revenge, even though she denied she did it out of revenge.

He began to focus on other things. The Vigil needed improvements and reinforcements. He worked with the dwarven engineers, reviewing their plans and expediting things where he could. This fortress was in his blood; the arling had belonged to the Howes for ages. The fortifications were something Lucy had no aptitude for, so he took it on. He looked for other ways to make himself useful: Riding lessons for Oghren and Anders, archery training for the soldiers, and sparring frequently with the other Wardens.

The agreement he'd made with Bann Esmerelle was almost forgotten when a new message was delivered to him.

_Owen __and __Irene. __Two __weeks. __-E_

He puzzled over the missive for a few moments, then remember that she was expecting his help in securing positions for two household servants. The Bann promised the keep would be his if he helped her.

He smoothed the paper out and read the names again. Did he want Vigil's Keep? A few weeks ago he would have said "no", now he wasn't so sure. Things were beginning to shape up, and much of that was due to his influence and supervision. This was what he grew up knowing how to do. He would be a far, far better Arl than she was an Arlessa. Rightfully, the keep should be his.

_Am __I __not __my __father's __son?_ Perhaps he should admit it and not fight against his nature. He had two weeks to decide. He folded the paper and stuck it in a hollowed-out finial at the foot of his bed.

**Lucy**

_Apple __Orchard. __Sunset. __-Wolf_

_Ah, __ever __the __mysterious __one __aren't __you, __Mister __Wolfy?_ I stuck his latest note up my sleeve. I really needed to have some pockets in my gown. I would have to have the seamstresses add them.

I was busy, of course, when was I not? Having to explain why there was a walking cadaver in our midst was difficult at times. The Ferelden Grey Wardens were a freak show. We had two cases of transplanted consciousness, one occupying a coprse; an alcoholic dwarf; a wanted apostate; and the son of a disgraced traitor.

"Varel, do you think the Orlesian Wardens were as weird as we are?" I asked.

He pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "No. Oh, they had murders, rapists, and such, but I can't think of a single case of transplanted consciousness or corpse possession."

I felt a little smug. "Well, good! It's nice to know Ferelden's own can out-weird those foreigners. I will have to tell Loghain, he's rather nationalistic. He'll be proud of us."

Varel chuckled, then his face took on a more serious expression. "Have you heard anything more from that Wolf character regarding the conspiracy?"

I shook my head. "I think he intends to update me soon. I'm starting to worry, it seems like the conspiracy has had plenty of time to incubate." I decided against sharing the note with Varel. He worried excessively.

"Let's hope this is resolved soon."

We also had to fit into our schedule time to find rooms for our two resident seamstresses as they arrived. Our cook from the Warden compound in Denerim was due to arrive soon too.

The seamstresses brought two new dresses for me. One was in a burgundy color I thought looked good with my red hair. The two shades of red clashed in a way I rather liked. The other dress was sage green and complemented my hair.

Nathaniel surprised me. He'd begun to take on tasks I'd been ignoring. He came out of the Blackmarsh a different man than the one who went in. This was gratifying! If this kept up, I'd discuss my plans with him. I would turn over the Arling to him, provided he would work with me to introduce some modest democratic reforms.

There was a little extra time to spend with Daniel and every moment was a joy. He'd be three months old soon. Loghain still hadn't returned. He was dealing with a small rebellion in the Bannorn, but he wrote to me regularly and sent presents for Daniel. I also heard from Anora and Alistair frequently, too. Five months and still no word from Zevran. I clung to hope that he yet lived.

"Varel, did you offer one of our holdings to Ser Derren?" I'd been so busy I hadn't had time to arrange the dinner and meeting I'd promised. I didn't want to put him off too long, he'd been quite gracious about losing his bridge to the traitor, Liza Packton.

"He refused, Commander. He said he'll wait until you have time to dine with him. He was quite adamant." Varel looked at me out the side of his eyes. "He seemed more interested in the dinner than whatever holding we are offering."

"Really?" The comment made me smile. Ser Derren had been so accommodating and charming. Not to mention he was rather handsome, with a fine ass as well. "You don't think he minds we're putting him off?"

Varel smiled indulgently. "I told him how busy you are with the darkspawn. He understands." He cocked an eyebrow. "I think he might be a little sweet on you, Commander."

I hoped Varel couldn't read me as easily as he seemed to read others. "It is important we keep our allies close, we have so few."

"Um hm," Varel said, his smile growing.

"Well, don't make any promises, but perhaps in a few weeks I'll have time."

"I won't make any promises you can't keep, Commander."

I smiled at him and wondered, just for a moment, what would Varel be like... you know... in bed?

Temmerly must remain in prison until we wrapped up the conspiracy. Then I'd put him on a ship headed out of Ferelden, but for now we couldn't risk him warning the conspirators. Liza Packton and the other confederates named by him were still free. I hoped Wolf could give me the ringleaders tonight.

_~o~o~o~_

I wandered out into the chilly evening. The sun was just beginning to sink into the east. It set the sky ablaze in shameless fluorescent oranges and pinks. I wandered amidst the bare trees and enjoyed seeing their branches back-lit by the setting sun. I wrapped my cloak around myself and tried to stay warm.

I should get outside more just to enjoy nature. This world was comparatively untouched and unspoiled. Well, except in the cities, which were absolutely filthy, but my composting toilets would go a long way toward fixing that problem. I thought I would like to learn to ride would be more pleasant that galloping through the fields in this beautiful country, on horseback? I supposed doing it as a horse would be an awful lot of fun too, but I'd been circumspect about using my shape-changing talents, except when utterly necessary.

My mind wandered to the time I'd kidnapped Loghain. What had been such a frightening undertaking at the time was amusing now. Then it occurred to me that the reason I'd given to Loghain for not marrying him was that I didn't want to be the center of attention, yet I'd ended up there anyway as the Warden-Commander and Arlessa. There was more to it than that, though. I couldn't give up Zevran. Besides, Loghain and I would probably end up making each other miserable. Maker knows we had fought a lot at times.

Did I even love Loghain? Yes, I did, but Loghain exhausted me. I always had to be on my toes with him. He had a cutting wit and sometimes he hurt those he loved. He also tended to be closed off and hard to talk to at times; it was like trying to pry open a clam with your fingernail.

Danny and Zevran seemed easy in comparison. They were open, uncritical, and so uncomplicated. Well, Zevran could be complex. It had taken a long time to peel the onion; he had a lot of layers that had protected his core. I never completely saw the man underneath until Riordan had died. I think nearly losing both Danny and me, coupled with my pregnancy, stripped away the last layers of his facade. But just when we had settled into a kind of domestic bliss, he'd left. I sighed heavily.

"So pensive, my lady. Truly, are an Arlessa's duties so burdensome?"

"Wolf!" His voice startled me out of my reverie.

I heard a stirring, and he half-jumped, half-fell from a tree. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hold back my laughter. "Well, done, Ser Wolf. I hope your spying has been more successful than your tree climbing."

Wolf stood up and dusted the wet leaves off his breeches. "Well, at least you're laughing. It is better than the heavy sighs. If it took a sprained ankle to hear that sound, then I could say it was well worth the cost."

"Let me take a look at that." Wolf already knew I was a mage. I could at least heal his sprain. I knelt down and began to unlace his boot.

"That's not necessary. I'll just walk it off." He was trying to be macho in front of me, I recognized it.

"Sit down and let me see your ankle," I insisted. "I'm not the best healer, but I think I can handle a simple sprain."

Wolf grunted. He sat down and removed his boot. His sock underneath had a big hole in the toe. The undarned sock made me smile. I put my hands on his ankle and sensed his injury; a torn tendon and some injured muscles.

I cast a simple healing spell along with a little heat to warm his cold foot. "I can fix the ankle, but the sock is beyond saving, I fear. For what I'm paying you, you should be wearing ermine socks."

He snorted at my jesting. "I'm afraid I can't quite live the lifestyle your sort does, my lady. My expenses are substantial, you know. Much of the money you paid me was used to loosen tongues." He put his boot back on. "Thank you. Your touch is most restoring." He stood up and offered me his hand.

I rose and looked at him. What little sun was left in the sky highlighted the strong column of his throat. He wore his black mask again and I wondered, as I always did, what lay beneath it. I couldn't see his eyes in this light, but I thought they might be green. "Will I ever see you without that mask?" What possessed me to ask such a question, I didn't know. Weren't we meeting to discuss the conspiracy?

"Will I see you without yours?" he replied. "It seems we both have identities we want to hide."

"Fair enough," I said. "Well, what have you learned, Mister Wolf?"

"I have learned that someone within your keep is a traitor. Be careful who you trust."

A traitor in the keep? A servant? Someone I counted on and relied on? One of my Wardens? "I don't suppose you have a name for me?"

He shook his head sadly. "I fear not. I have uncovered more names, such as Ser Guy, but I think there are more. I don't have the ringleader or definitive proof yet."

I sighed. "We're going to have to do something, whether or not you've found the ringleader. It seems like they've had ample time to put together their plan; I fear they might act soon."

"They're certainly spinning a lot of rumors," Wolf admitted.

"Oh no. Dare I ask?"

"The most alarming are rumors of food shortages. Is there any truth to them?"

"There is some truth to it, but Varel is working on importing more grain from the Free Marches and Orlais. There are shortages all over Ferelden this winter, due to the Blight. I think we can counteract any sort of panic if we're forthcoming with the people." I thought about sending someone out to the villages to talk to the public and reassure them.

"There are also rumors about you... your personal life."

I sensed Wolf was reluctant to explain further. "Oh? Go on."

"There is, of course, gossip about the appetites of the Grey Wardens, nothing new about that. If anything it lends something of heroic stature to those in your order, except amongst those who have a prudish or overly religious bent."

I smiled. "It sounds harmless enough, perhaps it will help recruiting efforts, should I ever get the time to recruit anyone."

Wolf coughed into his gloved hand. "It is harmless, except where you're concerned. There, the rumors are somewhat worse. It seems, according to them, you have an unnatural fondness for mabari."

My mouth gaped open. "Mabari?"

"Or horses, depending on who does the telling."

"They're trying to make me into Catherine the Great!" How maddening, yet amusing at that. There would be some, undoubtedly, who would believe it. How much weirder would it be if they found out I _was_ the horse? I kept my amused giggle internal.

"Who?" He laughed. "I don't think people really believe it. Most people are quite fond and proud of their heroine and laugh at such ridiculous tales. In fact, I've seen bar fights break out when your character is called into question."

"Well, then it's just silly gossip. I suppose I should get used to it."

"What is more interesting is the rumor that you and your brother are practically at war with one another and that he has disowned you. The most popular of that breed of rumor is that your brother dislikes the fact that you wed a commoner."

I smiled grimly. "Sometimes even gossip is right."

"So it is true? You were married to the Warden who died?"

I nodded. "Riordan. Yes, we married." _Sort __of._

"It is a romantic story. One that makes you even more sympathetic to the common people. I think your only concern is with the food shortages, everything else you can ignore." He paused a moment and scrutinized me. He took my hands in his. "I am sorry for your loss, my lady."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. I miss him very much, but the pain has faded greatly."

He stepped closer and lightly kissed my cheek. "You are a brave and resilient woman." He turned to leave, but I didn't let go of his hand.

_I'm __also __a __very __lonely __woman._"Wolf..." I said, not sure exactly what I was going to say or do, so I stopped talking, but I kept his hand.

"My lady?"

The sun had nearly abandoned the sky, and he was little more than shadow now. I considered a dozen things to say, each one sappier than the next. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. Indecision locked my words up, but less cerebral impulses won the day. "Oh hell," I growled and closed the distance between us, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and kissing him assertively. I could sense his surprise, but he responded to my kiss by putting an arm around my waist and pulling me closer.

It had been so long. The fire, long banked, surged into a wildfire. The kiss stretched on for minutes, but it had to end sometime.

"My lady..." he said, his voice sounded foggy with what I hoped was desire.

"Call me, Lucy, please." I peered into his mask, wishing I could see his eyes. "Forgive my presumptuousness."

"You did nothing I haven't been wanting to do for quite some time, Lucy."

"Then what next, Ser Wolf? You seem shy of scrutiny, and I have a certain propriety that I have to observe."

He turned my head so his mouth was on my ear. "Then we should meet somewhere. Tonight? A friend of mine has a cozy house not far away. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if we made use of it. He is visiting relatives to the south." His warm breath buffeted my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

He gave me directions, and I agreed to meet with him after supper, after I had put Daniel to bed. Sneaking out of the keep was easy for me. I could simply open a window and fly away. Being a shape-changer had its advantages.

We exchanged a few more kisses and parted. I walked back to the keep. I was quite sure my feet didn't contact the ground. I felt like I had champagne flowing in my veins. I'd have time to take a bath, change, primp a little, then eat dinner. I hummed happily to myself as I walked through the great hall and up the stairs to my room. I turned a corner, not paying attention to where I was going, and smacked straight into Anders coming from the other direction.

"Whoa!" I bounced off him, lost my balance, and fell on my ass.

Anders kept to his feet. "Commander! I'm so sorry."

I laughed and took the hand he held out. "Not your fault, I wasn't paying attention."

He smiled at me. "You look rather happy tonight. Did you receive some good news? Perhaps Teyrn Cousland has contracted the plague? Or have all the darkspawn decided to go to Orlais?"

I laughed at his joking. "Nothing like that. I'm just in a good mood."

"I see," he said. "Oh, you dropped something." He bent and picked up the message from Wolf I had stuck in my sleeve. It was unfolded and the message short; I could see his eyes moving over it as he read it. He scowled. "Wolf? Wasn't he that ruffian you met with in Amaranthine?"

I snatched the message from his hand. "He's looking into that conspiracy for me, and he isn't a ruffian."

"Of course he is, otherwise he wouldn't call himself Wolf, or Dark Wolf, or whatever mysterious name he goes by. You shouldn't be meeting with this scoundrel by yourself."

I shoved the note back up my sleeve. "I'll take it under advisement. See you at dinner." Anders' concern was sweet, but he worried too much. I couldn't exactly take a chaperone with me on my date. Although that did spark an intriguing fantasy of taking someone along to guard me... _Anders, __would __you __like __to __come? _The double entendre nearly made me giggle.

I took a lengthy bath in scented water and fixed my hair. My new burgundy dress, which clashed with my hair, went on over my chemise. The dress was cut a little low, and the seamstresses insisted I wear it with a corset to "display my assets". I longed for the comfort of a modern day push-up bra to hold up "the girls". I'd kill for a Victoria's Secret shop in my arling.

I almost used a little rouge, but my cheeks were already pink and my lips were dark enough. A bit of lip gloss, perhaps a smoky eye... What people would think of the cosmetics from my world: Shiny, sparkling pink lips, mauve eye shadow, bronzer, false eyelashes, I could only imagine their reaction. I looked at myself critically in the big mirror. After two years, I had finally grown used to thinking of this body as mine. I could finally admit that _I_ looked good, even without the lip gloss.

I went downstairs and joined the others for dinner.

"Commander, you look lovely this evening," Varel complemented me. "Is there a special occasion?"

"Hm?" I looked up from my meal, trying to think of an excuse. "Not really, I was just trying on my new clothes."

Anders was sitting next to me. "New hair style, fragrance, too, if I'm not mistaken." He gave me an odd look, but then his eyes settled on my cleavage and his look changed to one of distinct approval.

"Varel," I made a bid to change the subject, "I hear there are rumors circulating about a possible food shortage. I think we need to reassure the people that we're not going to run short. They should be informed of what we're doing to avert a crisis before there's a panic."

Varel nodded. "That sounds like a good plan. I will see that we send a representative around the arling to put their fears to rest."

I ate dinner quickly and told everyone I was retiring early. "I'm exhausted!" I yawned and stretched and bid everyone good night. I ran upstairs – probably not something someone as exhausted as I claimed to be would do – went into the nursery, and held Daniel on my lap while I read him a story. A memory assailed me from my childhood. My mom all dressed up and wearing perfume, holding me before going on a date with my father. It seemed like her spirit reached out from another universe and touched me for a moment.

I rocked in the chair and read a story about Little Bear. Danny was getting so big! Loghain had better hurry and visit, or his son might be full grown before he saw him again. Danny contentedly made burr-burr noises with his tongue and lips and blew spit bubbles. I wiped them away on my new dress. A little baby spit was good luck, I'm sure.

I put my boy to bed and bid goodnight to Iveta. Then I went into my bedroom, locking the door that joined my room to the nursery. I didn't want her to wander into my room and find me gone. I debated how to make my escape. Opening a window in my room would let cold air under the door into the nursery. I decided to go to another room, one not in use, and open a window and leave it open. I could fly back in when I returned.

It was rather exciting to be slipping away for a secret assignation. It reminded me of my time with Loghain. I took a deep breath and changed form. Hopping onto the sill, I fluffed my feathers against the cold air. I perched a moment, feeling the darkness beckoning, then I was off, winging my way to the house where Wolf was waiting. Flying was wonderful, I had missed it terribly.

I reached the house quickly and saw light streaming through the windows. Out of prudence I did a little spying. I looked into a few windows and only saw Wolf sitting in a comfortable chair before the fire staring pensively into it, his feet resting on a footstool. He still wore his mask.

I found a thick stand of trees nearby and hid within them while I transformed. Then I walked to the house and knocked on the door. I didn't have long to wait before Wolf opened it.

"Lucy." He stood in the doorway a moment and just looked at me, as if he couldn't quite believe I was there.

"Can I come in? It's a bit chilly." I clutched the cloak around me. Feathers were much warmer than even this heavy leather and wool cloak.

He smiled as if finally believing his eyes and pulled me inside. He shut the door behind me and without a word pulled me to him and kissed me. "I didn't think you'd come."

I laughed softly. "Really? That would have been rather rude. I try not to be rude." I kissed him back and ran my hand along his cheek. "Still with the mask?" I sighed.

"Trust me with your secrets and I'll trust you with mine," he said. His hands opened the fastener on my cloak; he swept it off my shoulders, throwing it over the stair railing.

I kissed his face at the edge of the mask and pushed it up just a little with my fingers. "What will it take to get you to remove it?" This was clearly a challenge now. Surely he didn't think I was going to bed him and let him keep the mask on?

He grasped my hand that was pushing his mask up and kissed my fingers. "We could tell each other who we truly are, then there wouldn't be any need for masks."

I laughed lightly. "What makes you think I'm not who I say I am?" I teased a finger of my other hand underneath his mask.

He caught the other hand and kissed it too. "It doesn't add up. Too many inconsistencies. Elissa Cousland might have been many things, but she wasn't a mage." He led me by my hands into the living room to the sofa. "Brandy?"

I nodded. "Yes, please."

He walked to the decanter across the room and poured brandy for us both. "By all accounts you were scheming, ambitious, dismissive of servants, particularly elves. But now I hear much different things about you. Your servants say you're fair-minded and generous. You treat them like family, as you do your Grey Wardens."

"Those stories are simply wrong. I've always been kindhearted to servants and elves."

He returned to the sofa and handed me the glass. "No." He shook his head. "I've spoken to some of your past and current underlings. The Elissa who left Highever is not the one I'm speaking with tonight. Elissa never went by the name Lucy, either."

I sipped at my drink for an extended period, trying to think of something clever. "A person doesn't live through what I have without changing."

He leaned over and kissed my neck. His tongue drew a hot line from my collar bone to just below my ear. "I'm sure that's true," he whispered into my ear. "There's just too much that doesn't add up."

"You're a very suspicious man. I suppose that's why you're good at what you do." He wanted to make a game of this?

"I like to think of myself as curious. When things don't make sense, I like to figure them out." He ran a calloused finger under my jaw and turned my face toward his. "And you, my dear, have never made sense to me."

His lips pressed against mine again in a fevered, bruising kiss. My spine began to melt.

He pulled away from me for a moment. "What was your nanny's name?"

My mouth opened as I realized I had no idea who her nanny had been. I tried to look away, but he pulled my head back so I'd have to look at him. His eyes, what I could see of them in that mask, looked amused.

"You hesitate!" he said. "I'm sure you wouldn't forget the woman who practically raised you from childhood."

"I had a head injury. I've forgotten many things that happened before the Blight." Gosh, now I really wish I hadn't dropped Prevarication 101. You'd think I'd have this lying business down pat by now.

"Oh, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy..." he sighed. "I'm so disappointed. I thought your coming here tonight meant you trusted me." I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

I took another long sip of my brandy, stalling for time, inspiration, or a clever excuse. Fine then! Let's look this sucker straight in the eyeball and call it what it is. I was here for a booty call. How much of my secret was I willing to trade away to get some? Could I really trust him?

"Would it be easier if I told you a bit more about myself? Perhaps we could exchange secrets, a little at a time," Wolf offered.

He had already figured out I wasn't Elissa, he just hadn't figured out who I was. I wasn't sure he would believe me if I told him. Did I trust him that far? My gut told me Wolf was one of the good-guys, but my sense of such things certainly wasn't infallible.

"All right, you go first," I agreed.

"You have to promise to reveal something after I do. Something meaningful."

I nodded and bolted the rest of my brandy. "I promise." I held out the glass knowing I was going to need more to open up about my identity.

He smiled, looking pleased, then refilled both our glasses. "All right then," he said, settling back on the sofa and twirling a strand of my hair around his finger. "I have something of a reputation in Denerim. I stole a few things. A trinket from Teyrn Loghain, the tears of Andraste, some things that Arl Howe probably never even missed. I gave the tears to the Chantry. Some nobleman had stolen them in the first place."

"Oh!" I snapped my fingers. "I remember hearing about you. It seems you had quite a crime spree." I smiled at him. "I don't find stealing from nobles all that objectionable. After all, they steal from everyone else."

He barked out a laugh. "You're a very odd woman, _Arlessa_."

"But don't steal from me, though. I wasn't kidding when I said I was cash-strapped. The fort was badly damaged in the attack, plus the Blight has devastated our economy. I have to be able to pay our soldiers so we can protect the farmlands, city, and trade routes from darkspawn. I paid for a lot of the expenses here from my own toilet money."

"Toilets! That's another thing that doesn't make sense. Where does Elissa Cousland come up with the idea of exploding ballista bolts and toilets?" He took another sip of his brandy. "All right. You have something you could use against me. A confession to my crimes. Now it's your turn."

I bolted the rest of my drink and held out my glass again.

He got up and refilled my glass, bringing the decanter back, so he wouldn't have to get up again.

I was beginning to get tipsy. "All right. I warn you, you won't believe me. I am not Elissa Cousland, at least, not entirely."

"I do believe you're not Elissa Cousland, although I can't account for the fact that you look like her." I saw a portrait of you... her once. The resemblance is remarkable."

"Well, that's because externally, I am her. This is the part you probably won't believe." I took a deep breath so I could say it quickly. "An ancient witch named Flemeth did some sort of spell to put my mind into her body and visa versa. No one consulted either one of us, it just happened. I woke up at Ostagar a different person from the one who fell asleep the night before. I come from a different world, perhaps in another galaxy or dimension. Who knows?" I shrugged.

"Flemeth? She is nothing but a legend! Your story is too fantastic."

I sighed. "She was quite real. We ended up killing her as a favor to her daughter. She turned into a very nasty dragon and almost killed me!"

He watched me closely. "Can you prove anything about this story?"

"I have, several times over. The first time it was to the Grey Wardens when I awoke in Elissa body. They had a mage confirm that I wasn't her and they accepted me, but said I'd have to pretend to be her. Then later other mages discovered my secret, like Wynne from the Circle Tower. Finally, the Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt confirmed my story as well. They wrote a letter explaining my circumstances and that I was under their protection, just in case the Chantry should get any ideas of messing with me. Of course, the king knows, he was with the Wardens when I awoke in her body."

He rubbed his jaw with his hand, looking stunned. "I thought there was something... but I had no idea it was anything like this."

Had I just killed my chances for the evening? I suddenly understood how Anders felt when someone fled from his attentions for being a mage. It was disappointing.

"From another world? Is it similar to this one?" he asked.

I laughed and shook my head. "Not any more, although it once was. We are perhaps what you will be like in nearly a thousand years. We have machines that fly, and ones that travel very fast along smooth roads." _Well, __if __you __don't __count __the __potholes, which were becoming enormous and plentiful by the time I was whisked away._ "We can travel into space and deep into the seas with our machines. We have no magic, but we do have toilets. I've been trying to bring some of the comforts of my home to Thedas. I missed toilets the most."

He gulped down his brandy in one swallow.

"There are no elves or dwarves on my world. No Qunari. Just humans, animals, insects, minerals and so on. No monsters like darkspawn or dragons. Some animals are kind of scary, but they are just animals." I thought for a moment. "I guess we do have monsters, but they're just really nasty humans."

"Another world?" he murmured again, still a bit in shock.

"It's your turn, I believe. Who are you? Other than the mysterious Dark Wolf." I reached out and tapped on his masked forehead.

He seemed to recover a little from my astounding revelation. "I am the third son of a Bann. I was given to the Chantry as a boy, but decided to leave before taking my vows. My father disinherited me. It was a long tradition in our family that one son would serve the Chantry. They liked to maintain a pretense of piety, but I rather dashed their plans."

"And your real name?" I asked.

"Lorcan Franderel, at your service."

"Franderel... " I mused over the name. It was just another one of the Banns. I was sure I had heard Loghain talk about him. "Franderel... wait! The Dark Wolf! Of course! Didn't you steal the tears of Andraste..."

He smiled. "From my own father? Yes."

My respect for him was growing by leaps and bounds. "Your own father!"

He shrugged. "We never got along. What better way to repay him for all the beatings?"

"Why... you audacious thing!" His story made me laugh.

I turned so that I was kneeling on the sofa, facing him. "Now that we've properly introduced ourselves... do we still want to continue with this?" My fingers teased the edge of his mask. I didn't wait for a reply. I slid my hands to the back of his head. He didn't remove my hands, so I worked the knot lose and pulled the mask free.

His face was handsome, but marred by a long, puckered scar that extended down his forehead and close to the side of one eye, distorting it slightly. His hair was fair, and, although it had been flattened by the mask, it curled rather nicely. He had beautiful green eyes that reminded me of Riordan's. In all, his features were handsome, but for the scar. Yet it gave him an air of danger that I found rather sexy. If I were to judge his age, I thought he might be in his mid-thirties, there were lines around his mouth and at the sides of his eyes.

"You tell me, my dear. You know my secrets and what else I was hiding behind the mask."

He was sensitive about the scar. I leaned forward and tipped his face up to mine. "I just see the man I wish to kiss. I only need to know if he wishes me to. We've both revealed a lot, Lorcan. Now it's time to decide whether to leap in, or away." I held my breath waiting for his reply.

He looked at me for a long moment in silence. "I am leaping in, Lucy. Only, please don't call me Lorcan."

My finger pathed down his temple, beside the scar, then across his lower lip. I leaned forward and kissed him. There was a little hesitation at first, but he did return it with enthusiasm. I knew my weird story had thrown him. I hadn't been sure he would recover his interest after that. I threaded my hands into his hair and unleashed a lot of pent-up longing.

"Come here," he said hoarsely. He pulled me onto his lap and I could feel his growing interest pressing against my bottom. Somewhere in that embrace he must have lost his concerns about my strange origins, or whether or not I was a mad woman. The kiss was good, the woman, eager; such things can conquer a lot of doubt in a man.

Being with someone new can be awkward, but it hadn't been like that with Danny or Zevran. Oh sure, it had been new and strange at first, but never awkward. Some kind of primal madness always descended on me with those two. Clothes seemed to melt away, everyone knew how best to touch each other, or if suggestions were made, they grew out of the moment and only lent to the fevered pitch of our love-making.

I had to confess I was nervous to be with someone I hardly knew. There were so many uncertainties. What would he think of the things I liked? Would sex magic be too freaky for him? How assertive could I be with him? I never had those thoughts about my two absent lovers. Ah well, I would be as vanilla as I possibly could be.

A sudden shift in position and I fell backwards, with his arm to slow my descent, onto the sofa. He leaned over me and looked at me a moment. "You are breathtaking with that glorious hair. The firelight on your skin..." He stroked his hand against my hair, as if I were a cat. He smiled at me. "You should beware the Chantry ever learning your secret, they would take you for a desire demon."

He unlaced my corset; I kept my eyes glued to his. The firelight was just as flattering to him as it was to me. If it hadn't been for the scar, he would have been almost too pretty. "And what do you take me for?"

"Desire, indeed. If you're a demon, my soul is lost. If not... then only my mind is lost." His hand traced the contours of my throat and a finger followed the low neckline of my dress.

"Whichever it is then, I promise I will return it."

He opened my corset and I untangled myself from it. Clothes came off and landed haphazardly on furniture, the floor, then the banister and stairs as we made our way up to the bedroom. A fire was burning already in the upstairs bedroom. I was glad he had planned ahead, Ferelden was becoming very cold and the houses were drafty.

My chemise finally fell a few feet short of the bed, then his trousers joined the textile battlefield. He backed me up to the bed, our lips glued together, my hands exploring the things I'd speculated had been under his clothes: A nice chest, well-shaped arms, a tapered waist, a tight ass. He would have looked good on a calendar. We fell to the bed and then there was a little artless fumbling for a few minutes as we explored one another. His touch was tenuous and too delicate while I held back, afraid to offend his sensibilities. Despite the rocky beginning, we grew more confident and bolder as our passion increased.

I demonstrated on him how I liked to be touched; a bit of pain with a lot of pleasure. Judging by his moans he was enjoying it too. He ran his hands from my breasts, down my belly, then caressed the insides of my thighs. I was glad I'd stopped burning off my public hair. I'd been far too busy to attend to such things, and there hadn't been any real point to it with Zevran gone. He seemed enchanted with my curly red thatch. Things really began to pick up when he kissed his way down my belly and spread my legs apart, burying his mouth and nose in my center. I could forgive a lot of clumsiness for what followed.

Whatever inhibitions I had dissolved as his skilled tongue and fingers worked on me. I had to watch myself as my fingers gripped his head and pulled at his hair as I squirmed and writhed under him; he wouldn't thank me if I left him a bald spot. He didn't let up until I'd had a noisy climax and lay weak-limbed on my back, unable to move for a moment.

He climbed up my body and loomed over me, his smiling lips shining with my own fluids. I smiled back at him and flicked my tongue out to lick myself off his lips. That turned into another ardent kiss which left us both breathless. His firm, warm cock teased at my entrance. It had been so long! I had to laugh at myself. During my fifty two years before coming to Ferelden, a dry spell of five or six months wouldn't have even registered on the sexual drought-o-meter. Since becoming a Grey Warden in a young woman's body, it seemed like an eternity.

The eternity ended as he slowly pushed himself into me. My breath caught, and I closed my eyes to savor the moment, the feeling of being stretched and filled. Wolf groaned as he slowly withdrew then plunged himself inside me again. I arched up under him trying to increase our contact, but Wolf was following his own rhythm. The slow, deliberate pace built upon my excitement again; soon I was using my nails on his back to encourage his progress. He thrust faster and deeper in response. I buried my mouth against his neck to hush my cries as I climaxed again. He followed soon after. Rhythm breaking, his hips stuttering against mine as he made a guttural cry.

He collapsed against me, his perspiring forehead next to my cheek. I stroked his hair as our hearts slowed from a wild gallop. After a few moments he rolled off me, to the side. I turned to look at him, a happy smile on my face. I couldn't keep it in; I laughed.

His expression looked confused, a little hurt. "What?"

"I was just thinking I'm ready to do it again."

"Does this have something to do with being a Grey Warden?"

I nodded. "Yes, I think so." I traced a pattern on his chest with my fingernail.

He smiled. "Ah, the stuff of legends, and I get to experience it firsthand."

"You do, indeed." I bounced a little kiss against his lips.

"Give me a moment. I'm not a teenager, although you make me feel like one."

"Take your time, Wolf, we have all night, and I'm a patient woman." I wasn't patient at all. I could have used magic to speed things up, but Zevran had taught me techniques too. It was amazing what lips, tongue, fingernails and the careful application of teeth could do. I kissed my way down his torso and did what I could to speed his recovery.

We made love twice more. The pleading look in Wolf's eyes after the third time was a clue there wouldn't be a fourth. I could take the hint. He pulled the covers up around us and I fell asleep with my head on his chest, feeling sated for the first time in months.

I awoke shortly before dawn knowing I should leave before the Vigil stirred to life. I debated whether or not I should wake Wolf who was still sound asleep beside me. In the end, I decided to kiss him and if he woke, then I would say goodbye, otherwise I would leave quietly.

He turned out to be a light sleeper and he awoke. "I should go, Wolf." I snuggled against him one last time, trying to soak up the feeling of having another body in contact with mine.

His eyes looked unfocused still with sleep. "No, not yet. Stay awhile longer." His arms clutched me.

I hated to slip away from his warmth out into the cold air. "I can't, Wolf." I kissed him again and pried myself away. The room temperature had me shivering, and my clothes had been abandoned all over the house, upstairs, downstairs, even on the banister. Flesh dotted with goose pimples, I ran around collecting them, stopping only to put them on piece by piece.

He plodded down the stairs after me. "I will walk you back to the keep."

I shook my head. "No need."

"No, I insist." He yawned and rubbed his head.

"I'll be quite fine, Wolf. I did kill an archdemon, after all. Go back to bed." I kissed him one last time and wrapped my cloak around myself, steeling myself for how cold I knew it would be. He gave up and watched me walk me away. I turned to wave, and he lifted a hand to me. Once out of sight of his house, I turned into a crow and flew back to the keep, through the window I'd left open.

Sometime during our love-making, I remembered I was not infertile and reminded myself that I needed to drink some contraceptive tea. I headed directly downstairs to the kitchen where I knew there was a large glass jar with the necessary blend. I got the jar down and put it on the table and filled a mug with hot water from my hands. I heard a footstep behind me and turned to see Anders.

He looked at the jar of tea then at me.

"Um, I couldn't sleep," I lied, pathetically. "I thought I'd have a cup of tea."

He smiled, a slightly evil look crossing his face. "Ah, if you can't sleep..." he picked up the jar I'd taken off the shelf and put it back, "I'd recommend valerian and chamomile, very soothing."

"Oh, right. I got the wrong batch." I laughed. "See how tired I am?"

He frowned at me. "Then again, perhaps you had the right batch." He reached out and pulled my hair away from my neck. He shook his head. "Bruised lips. Your neck... What brute left you so marked?" His hands glowed blue and he touched my neck.

Brute? He was rather delicate by my standards. I frowned at Anders. "He wasn't a brute." I liked how the little bites and bruises still tingled so deliciously; now they were erased, much to my disappointment.

"There, now you don't look like you just spent the entire night fucking."

I flushed. "Erm, thanks. I need to see about that tea."

"Don't bother," he said. "I have a spell." His hands flared again. I felt a little odd shimmy in my abdomen and then it was over.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

He just stared at me a moment, his expression unreadable. I decided to make some of the chamomile tea. I could stand a few additional hours of sleep.

He went into the pantry and came out with a wheel of cheese and some apples. "Want a little bed time snack? I'm sure you must be hungry after..."

"Uh, sure." _All __that __fucking?_ I really didn't want him to finish that sentence. Why did it bother me so much that I'd been caught, if not in the act, with all the evidence of it?

He gave me an apple. I bit into it hungrily, realizing he was right. I had worked up an appetite. He cut off a piece of cheese and handed that to me next. I put a little honey in my tea and sat down and sipped it.

"So, who is he?"

"I'm not the kiss and tell sort."

"I can guess." He leaned back on the counter, looking smug. "You drop a note from someone named Wolf. Then you come downstairs dressed in all your finery, smelling good, with your hair fixed up. Coincidentally, you retire early for the night. Then you sneak back into the keep before dawn looking like someone has been chewing on your neck, and your hair is a mess."

"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes, you know?" This line of questioning was making me uncomfortable.

"I'll take that as a complement, because I don't know who that is. Someone with marvelous intellectual powers, I'm sure."

"A good guess. You're full of them tonight."

"You know, in the tower, mages slept with mages. It's simply the natural order of things."

"Oh, come now! It was all you had available."

"Well, there was the occasional corruptible templar, but even so mages make the best lovers." He pointed at me. "Tell me honestly, could you even use magic around this Wolf fellow?"

I looked down at my tea. "Well, the relationship is rather new and fragile. I didn't want to push it."

He snorted. "Of course not! I guarantee the first display of magic, and he'll be off and running." Anders sighed. "It's like making love with half your senses gone, isn't it?"

I stirred my tea remembering my time with Zevran and Riordan. "It can be pretty damned magical even without the magic."

Anders scoffed. "Do you even know what to do? You've only been here a couple of years by your account. How did you pick it up already?" He took a bite of his apple.

"Wynne taught me the basics." I was smug; I knew what mages could do in bed. _Ha!__I'm __not __the __noob __you __think __I __am, __Anders. __I've __been __around __the __block a time or twelve._

Anders exploded with laughter; half-chewed apple shrapnel went flying across the table and splattered me. "Wynne taught you, did she?"

I wiped the apple off my face. "Well, she didn't demonstrate, she just described it. I practiced... a _lot_. It was so I could learn better control because of my strange reaction to lyrium." I glared at him. "You're not thinking she and I were... Do _not_ think it!"

Anders snorted. "Right. She taught you." Amused sarcasm dripped from his voice. "Did she teach you the denial clamp? I'm sure you've never experienced a full plexus pleasure loop or a Magnus block, or, for those times you want to be done quickly, a Finneger bolt."

_Shit! __What? __Wait...__that __last __one. _"Ha! You're wrong. Bendrick used the bolt, I think."

"But you don't know how?" he asked, needling me.

I shook my head. "Wynne told me sex-magic was just using very tiny fire, ice and lightning spells."

Anders snickered. I wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face, but not before I learned those spells. "Of course she didn't teach you those. She hasn't had her robes thrown over her head in thirty years. She probably never learned them."

"What's a Magnus block?" I just had to know. It all sounded very interesting.

He smiled smugly. "A Magnus block is magical nerve block. You can do all sorts of things to someone and they won't feel any pleasure at all..."

"That seems like it sort of defeats the purpose of having sex in the first place. Well, if you don't count procreation."

"Let me finish. They don't feel anything until you remove the block, and then they feel it as if it were all happening at once."

My mouth dropped. "Maker..." I could just imagine something like that in Zevran's hands. I think, if there was a god, he had been wise in not allowing my assassin to have magical powers.

Anders munched happily at his apple and watched my expression.

"And the denial clamp?" I asked, my curiosity afire.

"When you're not ready for your lover to climax, it leaves them hanging right at the edge."

I had to take a sip of my tea to counteract the sudden dryness of my mouth. I thought of Zevran again and the torture he would wreak with that. Dear, sweet god almighty, he would probably make me go a whole day like that. _Ah, __but __the __power __of __denial __could __be __mine._ My internal laugh was an evil one.

"That other one? The loop?"

"Oh, the plexus pleasure loop? It is a connection between two mages where you each experience what the other is feeling, in addition to what you're feeling. There's a variation on that where you don't experience what you're feeling, but only what the other person feels. It's almost like switching bodies. That's very advanced, though, since you still control your body, but the other person feels with your fingers, sees with your eyes. It's very confusing and usually leads to someone getting hurt."

_Maker's __ass, __send __me __to __the __tower __now! __Why __isn't __there __ever __a __templar __around __when __you __need __one? _"And you wanted to leave the tower? Remind me why."

Anders snickered at me. "One rarely gets the opportunity to even practice these things. Perhaps a few stolen moments behind a book case in the library, or you might be able to bribe your roommate not to turn you into the templars. These magics were banned by the Chantry, of course. They hate the idea of mages actually having fun."

My mind was swirling with possibilities. "What happens if you combine a denial clamp and a Magnus block?"

He chuckled softly. "You'll just have to try it sometime." He finished off his apple and cheese. "Well, I'm off to bed." He smirked at me. "If this _Wolf _left you with the pox, I can cure that too."

I was still thinking about the Magnus block and hardly heard him leaving. "G'night," I mumbled. I quickly finished my snack and went upstairs.

I turned my thoughts to my night with Wolf as I washed up and changed into my nightgown. It had been nice with Wolf, but he wasn't Zevran or Riordan. Yes, it was a little awkward, something I'd never felt with those two. An ache started in the region of my heart as I realized just how much I missed them. Then I started to feel hollow. There was something missing from my night with Wolf. It was what I had wanted, right? I didn't want to risk losing my heart to someone. I needed to think like a man right now. It was what it was, a booty call. That's good enough for men, why can't it be for me?

I pounded my pillow into the shape I wanted and crashed down on it with a big tired sigh. I had plenty to do the next day. I settled my mind and recaptured the pleasant glow I'd had earlier; then I slipped into the Fade.

I did something rarely do: I slept in until noon.

~o~o~o~

_Thanks so much for the reviews; they keep a girl inspired to continue writing. My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff McLaughlin for the inspiration and especially to Biff for beta-reading this monster. Also to Scarylady1 for her comments that led me to realize I was missing something in this story. Hopefully, it'll be coming back in future chapters. _

_I've made my first deadline but the next one I probably won't. :p Such is life, eh? I *may* be starting a new job next week (knock wood)._


	8. Managing Your Allies

**Managing Your Allies**

**Lucy**

This afternoon seemed interminably long. Was it Sunday on earth? Only Sunday afternoons could be this spirt-suckingly dreary, or as Douglas Adams so aptly described Sunday afternoons were _the long dark tea-time of the soul. _A solid grey cloud cover lent no relief to the day. Finally, as the day was about to give way to darkness, the clouds parted for one brief moment; I caught a glimpse of the sun before it slunk over the horizon, as if embarrassed it had done so little work.

I, however, held my head high, for I had labored diligently. The day was spent with Varel going over the tedious little details of running an arling. He told me of the incredible maze of laws that had been laid down over the centuries. They consisted of a weird patchwork of things, like barbaric death by torture for relatively minor infractions. He assured me that most of the crazier laws were never applied; still it wasn't hard to imagine some feudal lord whimsically deciding which laws to enforce.

I vowed to collect all these laws and get rid of the ones that made no sense, and modify the penalties that were too harsh. There simply wouldn't be death penalties for anything short of murder or torture. I wasn't even certain there should be death penalties at all, but there was no system in place for life imprisonment. How could you condemn someone to death without having extremely convincing proof like forensic or genetic evidence? Maker help me, I hoped I never had to do it.

There would be no dismemberments for thievery or poaching, no throwing people in prison for being unable to pay their debts – what genius dreamed that up? A person in prison is less than useless. No more death by quartering for people harboring apostate mages. I wondered if Nathaniel would collaborate with me to reform the justice system if I handed the arling over to him. I would simply have to stipulate it was part of the deal.

Varel cracked open an enormous, musty smelling book and showed me how the accounting was done. It gave me a vast headache. I wished for a good spreadsheet, or, perhaps,_ Quickbooks, Feudal Edition_. The rows of tiny, hand written numbers were exceedingly hard to read.

When I left Varel's study, I went for a walk in the last light of the day. Wolf and I hadn't been together since that night. It had worked to erase my loneliness for a time, but it was back now and was, if anything, worse. I thought about Zevran at night, wondering, as always, whether or not he still lived. Had Wolf been a mistake? I was looking for distraction from my loneliness and worries, and, of course, relief from the ever present nudgings of my nethers. A week had gone by since our night together, and I hadn't heard from him. Not that I expected him to call the next day, he was particularly cautious about being seen.

Rounding the corner of the fort, I ran into Anders chatting up one of the local girls in the courtyard. He was dressed in the new clothes I'd had made for him. I'd taken his mage robes to the seamstresses, and, between us, we turned them into something more masculine. They looked like a tunic or perhaps a coat of sorts. There were black leather straps, feathers, a bit of fur. I liked to think of it as _mage deconstructed_. They looked fine, very masculine. He'd even gotten used to wearing trousers.

I wasn't the only one who thought he looked splendid in his new clothes; the girls of the arling were paying him quite a bit of attention. It seemed I couldn't turn a corner without seeing him conversing with some simpering, young thing. Today was no exception. This one was blond, with large brown eyes and large breasts. _A bovine beauty, _I thought ungraciously. He had a tendril of her hair wrapped around his finger. I recognized the body language; he wouldn't be spending the night alone.

Wasn't that the whole idea behind modifying his look? I wanted him to be more acceptable to people and not have the whole stigma of being a mage hanging over his head. So, why did it bother me that my plan seemed to be working so well? _Anders is not for you, _I reminded myself.

"Evening, Warden," I said formally when I passed. I smiled at the girl and walked on.

"Good evening, Commander," he replied. He looked at me for a moment, peeling his eyes away from the pretty girl he was wooing.

_It seems it will be, for you._ Really? I would have thought Anders would like a more mature, accomplished woman. Why is he picking up barely legal girls? My heels began to strike the earth with more force, and my boots sank deeper into the soft earth. I made a quick turn, walked behind the stables, and took a shortcut to the training yard. I took off my cloak, draped it over the split-rail fence and unsheathed my weapons.

The irritation that had arisen moments ago fueled a desire to punish a training dummy. I didn't stop to examine the source of my anger; I lashed out with a series of attacks at the hay-stuffed manikin. I hit it solidly in the chest with a flying kick, then dropped to the ground as it retaliated by spinning on its post and tried to hit me with wooden arms. Blocking its arms on the second circuit of its orbit, I yelled and plunged a dagger into the part of its body that would have been its groin, had that detail been included on the dummy.

I heard a low chuckle and slow applause. I followed the source of the noise and saw an outline of a man in the shadows. I couldn't make out enough details to guess who it was, so I moved around behind the training dummy with my weapons ready.

"I feel a little sorry for the training dummy, I admit." The man stepped out of the shadows. I recognized Wolf more by his posture and voice than anything.

"Wolf!" I sheathed my weapons and walked toward him. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I didn't know if I'd run into you or not, but I thought I'd try." He caught my hand and pulled me into the shadows where he had stood. "I was considering climbing into your window, but it seemed a little suicidal to me."

I smiled at him. "If a guard didn't shoot you in the back, I might have reacted badly if you surprised me."

"Meeting with you is not exactly easy. We need to set up a signal." He pulled me to him and kissed me.

"What would you suggest?" I asked after I broke away from the kiss.

We set up an elaborate signaling system, involving the milk jugs the kitchen staff set outside each afternoon for the dairyman. We'd each check them in the evening. If they were arranged in a certain pattern, we would meet in the shack near the stables at this time in the evening.

"The shack?" I asked, thinking of it with its dirt floor and cobwebs. "You don't intend for us to... Not in the shack." I shook my head rejecting that idea.

"Well, no," he said, but I think he was lying. "We need to keep in closer contact about the conspiracy."

"Closer contact?" I pressed myself against him and kissed his neck. "How close exactly?" I pushed the picture of Anders and his new conquest with the bovine eyes and large udders out of my mind. _Where did that come from?_

His deep, warm chuckle made my toes curl. "We do seem to have a problem, don't we? There are some in Amaranthine that would like to see me dance on the end of a rope, or at least return me to Denerim to face justice, and you have an image to maintain."

"I don't care about my image. I'm sure I wouldn't be the only Arlessa in Ferelden to have a lover."

He frowned. "My face is, unfortunately, quite recognizable. I can't just assume an identity. Besides, you don't want to give the conspirators any ammunition."

"You're right, I suppose. We'll just have to think of something." For his sake, if not my own, we needed to be careful. I confess, however, there was a little thrill in the danger of it.

"I'll find a safe place we can meet, but I wanted to see you and arrange a signal. I think I'm close to cracking this conspiracy open. I've been seeing a lot of activity around Bann Esmerelle's estate, plenty of wealthy freeholders and known cronies of Arl Howe, coming and going. I just don't have any proof yet."

I chewed on my lip thinking about his warning that someone inside the keep was a traitor. "Any word on who the traitor is?"

He shook his head. "No, I just overheard something, names weren't mentioned." He ran his finger down my nose playfully. "But why on earth, my dear, did you make Howe's son a Grey Warden? I should think if anyone might bear you ill will, it would be him."

_Well, that would make sense, wouldn't it? _"I trust him, Wolf. He's accepted that what his father did was wrong. He's forgiven me for that." _I think. _

"You trust so very easily, Warden-Commander." His tone was both chiding and teasing, like someone trying to deliver a gentle scolding. "You might find yourself in trouble one day because of it."

"Perhaps, but so far I haven't been wrong. My instincts are sound."

"Instincts are always sound, until they're not, my dear. The stakes are high now." He began to sound a little frustrated with me. "I've had too many associates that trusted their gut one time too many. Don't do that."

I leaned into him and rested my cheek against his chest and nodded. "I'll try not to." My body was finally cooling from my exertions, and I started to shiver.

"I should go, Lucy. I'll be in touch soon." He tipped my chin up, so he could kiss me. It was a brief, but passionate, kiss that left my knees wobbly. He disappeared into deeper shadows.

I resumed my walk with the sun just over the horizon and the night thickening around me. I resolved to tell Wolf that my heart belonged to someone else. I couldn't pretend to be a man, careless of someone's affections. Most likely I was no more to Wolf than he was to me, warmth and comfort, distraction and pleasure; but sometimes innocuous assumptions could lead to misunderstandings. I had to be honest.

Brooding seemed to be the order of the night and walking was a marvelous time to brood. I turned down the road outside the fort, toward the apple orchard, and never noticed when someone fell in beside me.

"A bit late for a walk, don't you think?" Anders said.

"Ya!" I shouted and jumped, my hands automatically going to my weapons. "Sweet Maker, Anders, don't sneak up on me!"

"Sneak?" He laughed. "I call it walking, Commander. I think you weren't paying attention." He tapped on the back of my head. "Where were you? You seemed very far away. Back at that place you came from?"

"I suppose I might have been a little absorbed in my thoughts and not paying attention."

"Dangerous, don't you think? What with all the darkspawn and murderous nobles hereabout?" His tone was teasing and playful, but his warning was real enough.

"Yes, well, the trance is broken now." I looked up at him, a wry smile on my face. We walked on in silence for a short while.

"So, what were you thinking?" he asked again.

"I was wondering how you do it." I stopped walking and looked at him quizzically.

"How do I do what? I told you I'd teach you any spell you wanted to know, but you never seem to find the time."

"Not magic... the women." I was impatient at myself and my inability to find a way to phrase the question. "I told myself I could be like a man and just sleep with someone, and that would be that. Just... you know..." I looked around to see if anyone was listening, "... sex. That's all it can be. Now I feel guilty. I wonder if I might end up hurting him and then I wonder how you guys can do that and never seem to feel guilty about it."

"Ah." He said nothing more for a few moments. "Who says we don't feel guilty about it?"

"You do? I guess I just never saw it."

"Well, yes and no. I mean, perhaps not _before_, during the chase, but definitely afterward one might, theoretically, feel a little guilty. I mean, if there's no possibility that you might consider the person as a potential mate... then yes. I guess that might not be so good, but as near as I can tell, there's no shame in holding auditions for the position."

I laughed. "Ah, the old casting couch."

"So... why are you so sure that Wolf isn't right for you?"

I started walking again. Could I confide in him? I just wanted one friend, one person I could talk to. Maybe my feelings of isolation would go away. "There's someone else... someone who might not even be alive and who is very far away."

Anders grasped my arm and wrapped it around his bicep. "Oh? Do tell. I promise to keep it in confidence."

I held onto his arm with my hand, it was such a small gesture, yet comforting. I wasn't ready to spill everything, but a version of our story would suffice. "When Danny died, Zevran was there for me."

"And who is this Zevran?"

"Have you heard of Antivan Crows? He was one of the people who helped us through the Blight." I laughed remembering how we met. "He was hired to kill us, me in particular. I was a nasty loose end Arl Howe needed to clean up, or so he thought. He didn't know that Elissa wasn't exactly herself any longer."

Anders chuckled. "You are a magnet for assassination plots, but an Antivan Crow? You have interesting friends: A king, a famous general, and now an assassin."

"Let's not forget my friend, the apostate mage, in that list." I squeezed his arm with my hand.

He smiled at me. "Now that's a list I like being on: Lucy's friends list. It is much better than the list of people in solitary confinement at the Circle tower prison, or the Mages-To-Hang-Today list. Since I'm on _the_ list, can I call you Lucy now? I guess I already did, didn't I?"

"Oh, sure, but you'd better call me commander when we're around others. I hate that stuff, but I suppose it is expected."

"All right then,_ Lucy_, tell me about this assassin of yours."

I smiled when he said my name. At last, a BFF. If I pretended he was gay, then I might be able to ignore my attraction to him. I didn't want to complicate matters and possibly screw up our friendship by doing something utterly inappropriate. Anders: My gay best friend. We will go shopping together and talk about redecorating the Vigil. We can say catty things about Bann Esmerelle. It might work.

"Zevran was close to Riordan, too. Danny's death affected both of us and it brought us closer together. He stepped in, willing to be a father to my child, no matter if it wasn't his. I saw the assassin in him fading away and a man who could love deeply taking his place." I smiled remembering how he had been evolving since the Blight ended. "And he was really quite good in bed." That's something you would tell your gay best friend.

Anders snorted. "He wasn't a mage, though. How good could it be?"

I retorted with a snort of my own. "Well, they learn a lot of shit in assassin training. Seducing people is part of their job requirement, I think. At least, he made it sound that way."

"All right then, so your sexy Antivan Crow wasn't half bad in bed, but no mage. Why isn't he with you?"

"The Crows aren't the sort of folks that let their employees resign. Once a Crow..."

"Always a Crow?" Anders finished for me. "That's barbaric."

"Well, they are assassins, which is a bit barbaric. Anyway, they've sent Crows after him twice now. This last time they kidnapped me, hoping to get him to turn himself in, but I got away. That decided it for him. He didn't want the baby and me to be hurt, so..." I gestured helplessly, trying to express my frustration, "he went there to confront them on their own turf." I stopped walking again and fought against tears. "He said he would either take care of the problem or die trying. Whichever way it turned out, the baby and I would not be in danger."

Anders said nothing for a moment, then turned and took me in his arms. He hugged me and said nothing, just offered what comfort he could in his embrace. The dam holding it all back crumbled and I let go of my tears and frustrations. I held onto him tightly as I cried, choking on my grief. He tightened his grasp on me and rocked me back and forth gently.

"There now. Let it all out, Lucy. It's going to be okay." All those phrases people say to comfort one another, he said to me. It wasn't the words so much as the intention behind them that helped. He let me take my time and have my melt-down. It felt as if I had six months worth of emotion bottled up I needed to get rid of.

I finally got my voice back, shaky as it was. "I'm sorry, Anders. I seem to keep dumping this emotional maelstrom on you, don't I?"

"Shush, Lucy. Don't worry about me. I can weather any kind of climate you toss my way. Last I checked it was what friends were for." He stroked my hair and it relaxed me. I felt a little like a cat under his hand. "Can I ask you something?" His voice was soft and calming.

I nodded, my head still against his chest.

"Why Wolf, if there's someone you love?"

The breath I drew was tremulous. Tears were still hanging on my lashes, and I knew it wouldn't take much to bring more. "Zevran knew eventually I'd be lonely and... well, horny. He encouraged me to take a lover, but not to give my heart to anyone else." Those last sad words he'd said on the dock that foggy morning before his ship sailed broke my heart again. "I could keep that promise with Wolf."

"I see," he said. There was something remote in his voice that made me look up at him. Whatever it was, he didn't show it on his face. "But you feel guilty about it?"

I nodded. "He doesn't know about Zevran. No one here does, but you now. All things considered, it might be best to keep my affair with an elven assassin a secret, at least for now."

"Elven?" Anders sounded surprised.

"Yes. Does that surprise you?"

He chuckled and with my ear against his chest it made that pleasing man-rumble I always liked. "Not many noble ladies carry on with elves."

"Pfft! I'm as common as dirt. It's their loss. You know about the ears?"

He chuckled again. "Oh yes, there were plenty of elves at the tower. I've chewed on a few elven ears in my day."

I felt my tears finally lifting, and I laughed. "It makes me a little jealous. I mean, I like ear-play as much as anyone... but damn!"

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

I nodded. "I am. Thanks for listening. Thanks for... for being a friend, Anders. It means a lot." I squeezed him hard, giving him the hug I should have given him long ago. "I suppose we should go back."

"Yes, I suppose so." He let go of me. We turned around, and headed back to the keep. "So what will you do about Wolf?"

"I have to tell him." I told Anders something I've never told anyone else. "There's a prudish, old woman who lives in my head. She's a terribly judgmental, harsh old bitch, and she does nothing but glare at me, knitting letters of the alphabet when I am too... debauched."

Anders stared at me with an amazed look. "You are insane, aren't you? Letters of the alphabet?"

I laughed. "I'm just personifying my guilt. I really did grow up believing I shouldn't have too much fun in bed, but I've spent the better years of my life defying those rules. Still, she bucks up whenever I do and knits scarlet letters."

He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. "What is the significance of the letters?"

"Oh, there was a famous book I read in my youth about a woman who had to wear a scarlet-colored letter 'A' on her chest because she was accused of adultery."

"Are you an adulterer?"

"No, that's one sin I haven't committed. Abigail usually sticks to knitting giant red letter Ws that stand for whore."

Anders bumped his hip against mine as we walked. "You're no whore, Lucy. Cram that W down Abigail's throat. That'll shut her up."

I laughed and bumped his hip in return. I liked having a gay best friend. This was going to work out fine. "I will do that, Anders."

~o~o~o~

**Nathaniel**

There was a banging at the door before the sun even came up. Nathaniel fought his way up from the deepest layers of sleep.

"What?" His brain was still trying to figure out where he was.

"Get up, Nate. There's been a 'spawn attack, we gotta move." He recognized Oghren's gruff voice.

He got up and dressed quickly, grabbing his bow and a pair of daggers. He met Anders in the hallway, and they ran downstairs together.

"What's going on, Anders?" he asked.

"Messenger came in with news of a big darkspawn attack at a farm in the arling."

"What a way to start the day, eh?" Nathaniel was awake enough to joke with the mage.

They met the others at the stables, but Justice held back.

Lucy paced outside the stables, biting the tip of her thumb. "I'm sorry, Justice. You're just going to have to stay. The horses are too afraid of you."

There were already two horses saddled. Nathaniel got another ready while the stable hand worked on the fourth. He made a note that the other Wardens needed to learn how to handle the horses; even Lucy didn't seem to know how to saddle a horse properly. He might even be able to train a horse to get used to Justice.

They mounted and set off to the farm without delay. They couldn't gallop, Anders and Oghren still weren't that advanced on horseback; they could handle cantering, though. Nathaniel was critical of Lucy's seat. She needed some lessons too.

The farm was not far, and they soon arrived. Just as soon as he started sensing darkspawn Lucy called a halt. They hobbled the horses and walked the rest of the way. On the farm, they found bodies in the fields, dragged there in their nightclothes, torn by claws, bitten by misaligned fangs. Lucy seemed to listen for a moment then held out her fist and signaled there were a dozen darkspawn. Her thumb flashed up twice; that meant two casters. She extended her middle finger once. It was a gesture she explained meant "we're fucked" meaning there is an ogre present. The signals were developed during the Blight, by the three Wardens. The middle finger was her contribution.

They pressed ahead through the little road leading to the farmhouse. Oghren lead their party, followed by Lucy, then Nathanieland Anders. As soon as the darkspawn were within view, Oghren let out a loud war cry and rushed them while Lucy drew her weapons and followed him in. Nathaniel looked for the two spell casters and saw one. He and Anders would concentrate on taking them out.

"I've got the mage on the left, Anders."

"Right. Freezing him. Shatter his ass, Nate." Anders cast an ice spell at the darkspawn mage. "Shit! It didn't freeze him. At least it slowed him down some."

Nathaniel cursed under his breath. Anders' ice spell sometimes froze things and made them brittle. No such luck, this time. He loaded an arrow and aimed for the heart. The mage staggered backwards with the impact. Anders cast another spell and the mage fell to the ground twitching.

"Freezing the other one." Anders cast his ice spell at the remaining mage; this one froze solidly. "Yes!" He swished his staff in a victory dance.

A well-aimed arrow shattered the frozen mage. Then it was merely a matter of picking off the other darkspawn. The ones they could see didn't seem all that dangerous. Lucy and Oghren were doing well in close combat. She shimmered with something she had explained was a Fade shield and she moved quickly, cutting a swath through some of the lesser darkspawn.

Her shield shimmered every now and again as an attack penetrated through it. She didn't look injured, but the shimmering was fading; the shield looked nearly exhausted. An arrow, aimed with deadly accuracy, hit her shield. Her back was turned; she had no way of seeing it coming at her. Even though it slowed when it hit the shield, it continued on and pierced her leather armor. She yelped noisily as it sank into her back.

"Get the archer!" she shouted. She reached behind herself and yanked the arrow out.

Nathaniel looked for the archer with the wicked aim. He was on the farmhouse roof nocking another arrow, aiming for Lucy.

"Where's the archer?" Anders yelled. "I don't see him!"

Nathaniel, without thinking, aimed at the archer and fired. For a split second as his arrow flew, he realized he hadn't hesitated. He could have let the sniper take her. It would have solved so many problems. The Vigil might well have been his, revenge would have been dealt, and his father's spirit would be appeased. He wouldn't have had to dirty his hands with the conspiracy or have her death on his conscience. Just a little hesitation would have been all it would take, but he hadn't hesitated. His arrow completed its trajectory and lodged in the neck of the darkspawn sniper. He watched it tumble slowly down the steep pitch of the roof and off into the dirt. No hesitation. He had saved her.

Anders thumped him on the back. "Great shot, man!" They didn't have much time to celebrate. The earth shook under their feet as a plate mail-armored ogre changed Oghren.

"Oh god, it's wearing plate mail!" Lucy wailed.

Oghren raised his enormous ax and shouted something obscene at the beast. He and the ogre changed each other. The size difference was hilariously incongruous, but if the ogre was laughing he stopped when Oghren swung at his knees with a powerful chop. He swung like he was trying to cut down a tree.

Carefully avoiding ax and ogre, Lucy danced behind the beast. Anders cast an ice spell which merely slowed the beast down some. Nathaniel launched arrow after arrow, but they only bounced off the heavy armor.

The ogre reached out with a meaty hand and grabbed. He held Oghren up and roared in his face, splattering him with spittle and the remnants of some bloody breakfast. The dwarf turned red, struggling to get out of the grip.

Nathaniel saw Lucy stop attacking and do something behind the ogre. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but a moment later she somehow managed to pierce its armor with her daggers. The ogre dropped Oghren and turned to her, trying to grab her with its enormous hands. She suddenly disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, out of his reach.

"Neener, neener, neener!" she called to the ogre. The ogre roared again and came for her. She started to run slowly, leading the ogre on a slow-motion chase. "Kill this thing!" she shouted.

She led them around the farm house, somehow keeping the ogre's attention while the rest of them trailed after trying to kill it.

"Train to zone!" Lucy yelled.

_Train to zone? _Another one of those incomprehensible things Lucy says or does. Nathaniel wondered if she would be considered insane in her world. _Probably._

Eventually Oghren was able to smash through its armor, and Anders did enough damage with his magic that it fell to its knees still trying to grab Lucy. She turned, plunging a dagger through its eye, and that was the end of the armored ogre.

"Shit!" Lucy kicked the ogre. "Putting that thing in plate armor, what sick fuck does that?"

Oghren shook his head. "That thing was like a..."

"A Sherman tank" Lucy finished for him. "This must be the doings of the new and improved darkspawn." She shook blood off her hand and healed the long gash that ran down her palm.

"I liked them better when they were mute and stupid," Oghren said.

Lucy nodded. "Well, let's see if there are any survivors. Check the darkspawn for loot, then pile them up. We will send the darkspawn to hell in style."

The Wardens didn't find any survivors. Anders and Lucy started a conflagration that consumed the corpses, darkspawn and human alike, quickly. They rode slowly back to the Vigil.

_Why did I kill the sniper? _The scene played out over and over. It would have been so easy to claim he hadn't seen the sniper. A fraction of a second's hesitation and she would most likely be dead. No answers were forthcoming during the ride home.

"Come on, Nate," Anders said once they arrived back at the keep, "let's get some breakfast."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I'll get something later. I want to clean up."

"Suit yourself. I'm pretty hungry, there might not be anything left." Anders laughed and went into the keep.

Nathaniel trudged upstairs to his room. His mind still raced, replaying the moment he had acted, without hesitation, to save Lucy's life. He was caught between cursing himself for a fool and feeling relief. Did this mean anything? Or was it his automatic response to help anyone who was in danger?

_Father would call me a fool, but he was a fool. He threw our family name away for his greed and ambition. What am I doing, clawing my way back over the corpses of whoever might get in my way?_

He unscrewed the hollow finial from the foot of his bed and pulled out the note from Bann Esmerelle and read it again. Such a light thing, a note, but it felt heavy in his hands. He could choose again. It had been easier when his father was alive; he hadn't had so many choices to make, everything was decided for him. He could do nothing; perhaps the assassins wouldn't get jobs, but they'd find another way. He could give this note to Lucy and warn her, or he could do what _Esme _wanted and help the assassins into jobs here.

He didn't like Lucy, but he no longer hated her. She irritated him. How could a woman who claimed to be over fifty years old be so foolish as to trust the son of the man she killed? He turned suddenly and slammed his open hand against the wall in anger. At least he wasn't stupid enough to punch the wall. He knew how solid they were. Nonetheless, the hand burned just as much as his temper did.

_She's an idiot. She doesn't deserve Vigil's Keep._ _She doesn't even want it. _He imagined placing his hands around her neck and squeezing.

_She__ struggles, trying to get away, unable to cast magic. The little bones in her throat crunch under his grip and still he squeezes. Her windpipe collapses and her eyes bulge in horror as she realizes she can't draw a breath even if he lets go, and he doesn't. He finishes the job his father never completed. _

He jerked away from the wall and retched, nauseated by the vision. His fist relaxed and the strangled note lay wadded in his hand. Impulses fought over it; one wanting to burn it , the other wanting to give it to her, to help her. _I'm not my father. I am my father. _With an impatient growl, he stuffed the note into a pocket and began to wash up and change his clothes.

~o~o~o~

All day he felt the note in his pocket burning like a coal. He teetered on a knife's edge, deciding and re-deciding time and again through the day. Twice he balled up the note in his fist, ready to fling it into a fireplace. Twice more he nearly accosted Lucy to tell her what he knew.

After supper the Wardens relaxed around the dinner table finishing their ale. Iveta brought Daniel down from the nursery and Lucy held him. The wine and ale flowed freely and the Wardens joked about their adventure in the morning. Anders was trying to get Lucy to explain what "train to zone" meant. Lucy explained it had something to do with a video game, whatever that was. He stopped listening because the explanation made no sense whatsoever.

Lucy handed her son to Anders. Her eyes shone with pride as she watched the mage baby-talk to her son. She was a doting mother, he had to hand her that. She loved her son dearly and would fight like a wild cat for him, as she'd proven to him once. Even Nathaniel had to admit the child was attractive and sweet-tempered. He'd never seen it cry or fuss. Had his parents ever doted on him like that? He had no memory of it. His father was always busy, and Nate was expected to be a little adult around his parents. He envied the children of the lower orders for the attention their parents showered upon them. Lucy must be one of them on her world.

Sipping his glass of wine, he was the last to leave the dinner table that night. He trudged up the stairs, still unsure of how to deal with the scrap of paper in his pocket. He passed the commander's door and heard her singing a silly song to her child. Her voice, which was passing fair, floated out to him in the hallway. He paused a moment to listen.

"Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a rail. Niddle, nobble went his head. Widdle, waggle went his tail," she sang.

Nathaniel smiled at the lyrics remembering that his nanny had sung that song. His hand formed a fist, and he knocked even before he realized what he was doing.

Iveta opened the door.

He paused briefly. He could make up an excuse and walk away. It wasn't too late. "Um, I would like to see the commander."

Iveta nodded. "Just a moment, ser." She walked through the sitting room to the bedroom. "One of your Wardens wishes to speak with you, my lady." She held out her arms for the child.

"All right. Go ahead and put him to bed." Nathaniel watched Lucy kiss her baby's forehead. "Go to sleep, little bear." She handed her baby over to the nurse. "Thank you, Iveta."

Iveta smiled and took the baby into the adjoining room.

Lucy walked through the bedroom into her sitting room and waved Nathaniel in. "Come on in, Nate." She paused at the brandy decanter. "Brandy?"

Nathaniel nodded. It still wasn't too late. He could make an excuse and leave, but he took the brandy from her and sipped it. She poured one for herself, too.

"Good job, this morning. I've been meaning to tell you that. Some of those darkspawn archers have gotten pretty damned good. I'm grateful you took him out before he could any real damage."

"Thanks, Commander."

"So, what can I do for you, Nathaniel? You've been looking very preoccupied all day today," she said.

For Daniel, the child, he'd do it. He could save one boy from growing up an orphan; that much he would do. He pulled the wadded up note out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the tea table. "This will interest you." He handed her the note. The decision made, he finally felt some relief from the conflict that had eaten at him for so long, but there was still a lingering doubt that he had made the right decision.

"Owen and Irene. Two weeks," she read. "E? Who are Owen and Irene? What does this mean?" She looked at Nathaniel, puzzlement written on her face.

"Crow assassins hired by Bann Esmerelle. She wanted me to convince you to place them here as servants." Nathaniel kept his face as blank as possible. He would have to be careful not to implicate himself in the conspiracy.

Lucy's hand trembled slightly. "Maker," she whispered. She looked up at him. "She trusted you with this task?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I've been coaxing her along, trying to get her to implicate herself in the conspiracy. Now you have proof."

Lucy stood up and paced. "Proof? An initial on a note? Your word against hers? She'll deny it, of course." She sighed and shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, more than grateful, but what little I know of these punks, they'll probably try to throw doubt on your veracity, perhaps simply because of your father being a... well, you know."

"A traitor."

Lucy nodded. "Er, yes, that. Sorry."

Nathaniel shrugged. "Do with it as you wish. I simply wanted you to be forewarned."

Lucy sat back down and leaned forward. "I appreciate it, Nathaniel." She rubbed her forehead as if thinking. "So they think you've turned on me?"

"Esmerelle approached me with her scheme and I let her believe what she wanted. You're holding the end result of that."

A sigh that looked like pure relief whooshed out of Lucy. "All right. Well, this is something to work with. Thank you, Nathaniel." She smiled at him.

He stood up. "My pleasure, Commander. If there's nothing else?"

"No. This is good, quite good. Thanks again."

He nodded, turned and walked to his bedroom. It was done, at last. He walked into his room, closed the door, then collapsed into a chair. _Maker, it is over!_ He thought he felt at least as much relief as Lucy had displayed. He hadn't realized how much the decision had been weighing on him. Now that it was made, whether it was the right one or not, he wanted to celebrate that it was over.

There were two others in this Maker forsaken keep who knew the meaning of the word celebrate. He got out of his chair to find his two brother Wardens. Some of Anders' special herbal blend and Oghren's brew should do the trick.

~o~o~o~

**Notes: **_My thanks to Biff McLaughlin for her beta-reading skills. _

_Sorry for the slow update! I at least made one deadline before blowing it to hell. I started a new job on very short notice: Yay! Caught a cold on my first day at work: Boo! So my whole focus has been on making a good first impression at work and recovering from my cold. For some reason, computer programming eats my brain. I find there's little creativity left over for writing. I hope I can regain some balance. Sadly, instead of thinking of cool plot twists when I'm showering, I'm problem-solving whatever I'm working on. Bleh! I need to figure out ways to switch from programmer to writer._

_I thank you all for your reviews! I enjoy the feedback and always look forward to it._

_Don't look for regular updates for awhile. :(_


	9. The Migration Habits of Darkspawn

**The Migration Habits of Post-Blight Darkspawn**

**Note: **If you're unclear on who Jon Lovitz is, check out my profile. I linked to a video of his SNL skit as the devil.

**Anders**

"Babies cry sometimes, Lucy." Anders took Danny from his mother and laid him down on her bed. "There's a good fellow!" he said as Danny's hiccupping cry quieted. "You just wanted to spend some time with Andies, didn't you?"

"Not this baby. Danny almost never cries, not unless he's hungry or needs changing. I know there's something wrong." Lucy paced around her room looking more worried than he'd ever seen her.

Danny blurbled and hiccupped again. Anders dabbed away his tears and a little snot using Lucy's blanket. "Maybe it's just a phase," he said. "Babies are people, they change."

"His forehead felt warm to me, and there's a rash on his leg. What if it is Kawasaki's disease?"

"Cow-a-what?" Anders look puzzled.

"I saw it on Mystery Diagnosis once. Poor little boy nearly died from it," she said.

Anders put his hands on Danny and searched him magically. "He does have a little rash on his bottom, just some irritation, like chafing."

"Diaper rash? No, it can't be just that. He must have a fever. Can't you tell?"

It was the first time Lucy had ever doubted his skill as a healer. It would have hurt his feelings, but he knew she wasn't being rational. "No fever." He needed to prove it to her. "Come here, Lucy. Sit down. I want to show you something."

She sat on the bed with Danny between her and Anders. He picked up her hand and placed it on her son's chest, covering it with his own. "I know you can do this to some extent. You can feel broken things, like bones or major injuries to organs, but you can't feel things like diseases, or subtle abnormalities."

Looking up at him, she nodded. "Can you teach me?"

"Given enough time, yes. We'd need to work with a lot of ill people, though. For now, I think I can help you see his state. That will put your mind at ease." He let his magic flow through her hand and into Danny. "Add your own wound sensing ability to what I'm doing."

She closed her eyes and let her own magic mingle with his.

"Follow it with your mind," he said.

She relaxed and her face looked more peaceful. He had sneaked a little sedation and a hint of euphoria into the magical stream. It would help both mother and child relax. Then he shaped and guided her magic and took her on a tour of her son's body.

"He's so perfect," she whispered reverently.

Anders smiled. "He is a very healthy boy, Lucy, except for this bit of a rash here." He guided her senses along the baby's nerves.

"Ow. Poor baby."

"I'll just fix that right up." Anders soothed away the rash and Danny cooed happily, waving his fists in the air. "See? Happy baby, again."

Lucy opened her eyes and smiled at Anders. "That was amazing. Put that on the list of things I want to learn from you."

He squeezed her hand, gratified by the smile. "Before or after the sex magic?"

She shook her head and laughed. "You just never give up, do you?"

"I think you'll find persistence is one of my most endearing traits. Knight-Commander Greagoir certainly thought it was charming."

She sighed. "It reminds me of someone else - very persistent and a terrible flirt."

He tilted his head. "Your assassin?"

She nodded. "A little. I think you'd like him."

_I doubt it__. _"Do you think so?"

"He's irreverent, a bit sarcastic at times. He has a finely tuned sense of irony. Maybe living with death does that to you."

As if to remind them he was there, Danny gurgled and kicked his legs.

"Hey there, my little man." Anders picked up the boy and seated him on his lap. Danny gripped onto his fingers. "You've got quite the grip there, son." He looked up at Lucy. "I haven't been around babies much, but this one seems to be particularly cute. Usually when I see them they're all squashed-looking, red, slimy and crying. Then the Chantry takes them away." Anders wiggled the fingers that Danny clutched so tightly, little red and gold sparks flew off Danny's hands into the air. The baby laughed and kicked his legs.

Lucy grinned at the pair. "You're going to be an awesome father, Anders."

"Being a father… is that even possible for me?" he asked.

"Well, yes, the Grey Warden potion we used doesn't cause infertility like the old one." Lucy smiled warmly. "My little surprise from Avernus is right there." She pointed at the baby.

"No, that's not what I mean. My fertility is fine. I just meant it wasn't ever really an option before. We were very careful about such things at the tower. No one really knew what happened to those mages' babies once the Chantry took them. I always suspected they were raised as sisters or templars, but I suppose it could have been even worse than that."

Lucy looked startled. "Worse? What do you mean?"

"They might have just killed them. The Chantry doesn't like bringing more mages into the world." He shrugged and sighed with frustration. "I'm just speculating, but I wouldn't put it past them."

She looked away, a pained expression on her face. "They should be stopped."

"I happen to agree with that." His words sounded light and agreeable, but deep bitterness lay at the base.

"Where does one start, Anders? I have been appalled by so many things in this world: The injustices to the elves and mages, the ridiculous power and wealth concentrated into the hands of the few." She sighed. "Not that my world was all that much better, really. I just happened to live in a spot where things were a little improved."

"I know where I will start: With the mages. Things can't be allowed to stand as they are. Mages must revolt." His expression grew grim and he looked down at Danny. "What if your son is a mage, Lucy? Would you let him be taken?"

"Never, but it's very unlikely in any case." She tapped her finger against Danny's ankle, pondering. "On my world revolutions are often brutally put down. The reaction to them can lead to even worse repression. But eventually we had mass production of books and pamphlets which led to the spreading of ideas. Then came the telegraph and radio, film, television, finally the Internet and social networks where the new beliefs could take root in the blink of an eye. The world changed ever faster. People in all sorts of places began to believe they could make change happen. It is like lighting a torch in a dark room, suddenly you can see your way out. It was communication and the transmission of ideas that brought freedom and change."

Anders listened raptly. "How could we do such things here? Information travels very slowly, if at all."

She bounced with excitement. "I haven't shown you the orbs yet, have I? You lucky people get to skip over centuries and get right down to video conferencing. Well, sort of. I learned a little bit of magic from Morrigan who got it from her mother… well, the woman who claimed to be her mother, after we killed her and took her grimoire, but that's a long story."

"You killed someone's mother?" He looked aghast.

"Oh, no, it isn't as bad as it sounds! She was plotting terrible things, to take over her daughter's body. She had lived for centuries doing just that."

"Ah, a blood mage then?"

"Well, probably, if that matters. What really mattered was she was intending to possess Morrigan, my friend."

"Tell me about the orbs," Anders asked, shifting back to the topic.

"What's needed in this world is to plant a simple idea to grow in people's minds. It is a notion that is the basic tenent of many societies in my world. The idea is that everyone, no matter how great or small, rich or poor, male or female, mage or muggle, human, dwarf or elf, has certain rights that no one can take away. Things like the right to participate in the government, to speak freely without fear of imprisonment, the right to fair and impartial justice, and basic rights that all thinking beings have. Equality under the law is a small idea, but so important. If we spread and nourish that idea it will change the world."

Musing, Anders watched Lucy become impassioned on the topic, growing more animated and excited. "And the orbs?" he reminded her.

She smiled and went to a dresser and rummaged through her sock drawer. She pulled out an orb and brought it back to the bed. She waved her hand over it and it sparkled briefly and the scene of people working came into view. He could hear their voices and the sounds of hammers in the background.

"Can they see and hear us?" Anders stared intently into the orb.

Lucy nodded. "Yes, I just have to activate it at my end. Their end is always on, because there isn't a mage there to activate it."

"Lucy…" Anders looked at her intensely, "if this thing required a mage to operate…"

Smiling, she nodded. "It would make mages very indispensable." She sighed. "I've kept this semi-secret for selfish reasons. I didn't want the Wardens in the Anderfels to be that closely linked with us. But I think this technology… mageology… needs to be spread."

"You _have_ to teach me how to use these." His eyes shone with his exhilaration.

"I'll even teach you how to enchant them. Fortunately, Morrigan taught me. We'll have to teach other mages. Everyone one of them should learn this."

He pried one of his hands away from Danny's grip and grasped Lucy's hand. "You need to reveal yourself as a mage, Lucy. The movement needs you."

Lucy shook her head. "Movement? Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves? I have Danny to think about, too. We have these talking darkspawn to deal with."

"Think of it, Lucy. In your position you have influence. You know important people, the king and queen, Loghain, all the nobles."

"I'm also a big, fat imposter and drawing attention to me might end up exposing that little detail to people who would probably think it would be a good idea to separate my head from my neck."

The enthusiastic light faded from his face. "So what was that speech about? You hope someone else will address the problems of this world while you pretend to be someone you're not?"

Lucy looked away, her forehead furrowing and her smile fading. "This is not how I had planned my life after the archdemon died and I found out I was pregnant." The wistful look on her face tugged on Anders heartstrings. "I thought I would live in Denerim with Zevran, raise my child, and bring sanitation and the comforts from home to the people of Ferelden."

"Think about it, Lucy. You could help bring meaningful change to this world, something better than even toilets."

She squeezed his hand. "I will think about it, after things have settled down here… after I know whether or not Zevran…" She stopped mid-sentence and changed the subject abruptly. "Thanks for curing Danny's diaper rash. I'm sorry I was so paranoid."

After tousling the fine black hair on Danny's head he handed her the baby. "It's what I'm here for." He stood up and smiled at her. She was so close, her eyes smiling with her thanks. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around Lucy, mindful that Danny was between them. He held her for a moment and then brushed her cheek with a quick kiss.

Danny burbled, happy to be pressed between two adults. Anders didn't want to leave. He felt part of something special when he was with Lucy and her son. Her lips parted briefly as if some words were trying to escape. Instead she smiled and broke eye contact.

"I'll see you at dinner. I have to… things, you know, stuff… to do. Varel probably wants me to look at things and do… stuff."

Lucy at a loss for words was rare; it boosted his confidence. Every now and then he got past her defenses and saw a woman he was sure wanted him. "Of course, stuff and things. See you at dinner." He walked out of her room with a little extra bounce in his step.

**Lucy**

I had slipped outside that morning and rearranged the milk bottles into the pattern that Wolf and I had agreed upon as a signal. Tonight, according to our plan, we'd meet in that creepy old shack behind the stables. I needed to talk to him about what Nathaniel had told me. I knew now, for certain, who was behind the conspiracy: Bann Esmerelle. We just needed proof.

This was going to be a good day. Nathaniel's revelation solidified my trust in him. I fully intended to gloat to Wolf that my instincts were right yet again. The traitor that Wolf had warned me about surely must have been Nathaniel. He had, no doubt, heard the conspirators discussing Nathaniel. It was a great relief to find out there was no traitor.

After Anders had seen to the mysterious illness I'd convinced myself Danny had been suffering from, I went for a walk around the Vigil.

"Well, hello, sweet baby!" A very scrawny marmalade kitten wandered into my path and rubbed my ankles when I stopped to admire her. She – verified by a quick check - was, perhaps, only three months old, with more of a squeak than a meow. I scooped her up and settled her into the crook of my arm and walked back to the keep. I remembered Anders had told me a story of a cat he'd kept company with in his solitary confinement, his only company. As much as I wanted to keep the kitten myself, I decided to offer her to him. I had Danny to cherish and care for and he had no one.

The kitten seemed content enough to nestle in my arms as I walked back to the keep and up to Anders' room. I pulled my cloak closed to hide the kitten and knocked.

"Lucy?" he said when he opened the door. "Everything all right with Danny?"

"I have something you might want." I smiled, hardly able to contain my delight in the secret I had hidden inside my cloak.

His face lit up. "And just what do you have there?" An eyebrow cocked and one corner of his mouth turned up in a wicked smile. "You're naked, perhaps?"

I shook my head. It was getting harder to imagine Anders was my gay best friend when he acted like that. "Close your eyes and give me your hand."

His smile got even broader. "Oh, I like how this surprise is going." He closed his eyes and held out his hand.

I parted my cloak and brought out the kitten. I placed her front paws on his hand while I held onto her. "All right, open your eyes."

"A kitten!" He wrapped his hand around her and took her from me. "Why it looks just like Mr. Wiggums, except much smaller." He brought the kitten up to his face and nuzzled her. She purred loudly. "I will call him Ser Pounce-a-lot."

I rolled my eyes. Some people shouldn't be allowed to name things and I feared Anders was one of them. "It's a girl kitty."

"Well, Ser Pounce-a-lot could be a female name, too."

"It could be, I suppose. But it doesn't sound very feminine. Why not give her a more feminine name."

Just then, the kitten squeaked and batted at Anders' face with a paw.

He laughed. "Was that a meow? It sounded more like a peep."

I giggled. "There, she agrees with me! She wants a girly name."

Anders scratched her under the chin and she craned her head up to give him full access. "Then you pick out a name for her."

"Lady Marmalade, Apricot, Buttercup, Cheddar, Carrot, Ember, Mango? Her coloring suggests names like that."

"Carrot? What's so feminine about that?"

"Marigold, Peaches, Amber, Goldie?" I suggested. "Do any of those speak to you?"

"It's more important that they speak to her, I think!" He held up the kitten. "How about it, kitty? Would you like being called Marigold?" The kitten continued to purr and tried to head butt Anders under the chin. "Well! That's settled then. She is Marigold!"

"So, I guess you want to keep her? I wasn't sure you were really a cat person."

"I have something of a soft spot for them, as you've figured out."

"Good! You'd better get her something to eat, she looks half-starved."

Marigold attacked the feathers on Anders' coat. "It looks like she's found something to eat." He grinned at me.

The kitten began worrying feathers out of his coat with her teeth and I giggled. "We might need to find some other decoration for your ensemble." I reached over and scratched her head one last time. "I should go and let you two get acquainted."

Anders held the kitten against his shoulder with one hand and he wrapped his free arm around me and hugged me. "Thanks, Lucy. This was a thoughtful gift." He kissed my cheek and squeezed me. For the second time that day, I didn't want to pull away, but I did.

"See you at dinner." I left and shut the door. _Stop it!_ Now I was jealous of the kitten. This was getting ridiculous. If I couldn't control my emotions better than this, then I just needed to stay away from him.

I kept myself busy for the rest of the day, trying to divert myself away from my thoughts about Anders. My plan to think of him as gay just wasn't working. Perhaps seeing Wolf would divert me from my dangerous obsession with my recruit. If our agreed upon signal worked, then I'd see him tonight. I ate a quick dinner and then snuck out of the keep to meet him in the shack.

The night was a wild one with a whippy wind. It rifled my cloak and through the branches of the trees. The clouds were moving across the sky, concealing, then revealing, the face of the moon. It was my favorite sort of night. The sort that seems to call for haunted houses and witches flying around on brooms. It amused me that I was the closest thing to a witch in these parts, and I couldn't fly on a broom. Who would want to sit on a broom anyway? I could just imagine how incredibly uncomfortable that would be. If I were going to fly on a common household item, I'd choose something more comfortable, like a carpet or perhaps a sofa cushion… heck, why not a La-Z-Boy recliner? I giggled to think of a coven of witches convening a Sabbat, flying in on their comfy chairs. Could we enchant a little beer fridge to fly along behind us?

I was grinning stupidly at my train of thought when I slipped into the little shed. Wolf was already there. A little lantern was burning, providing a bit of light. He'd _borrowed_ some glasses, and probably the wine too, from the keep and had it waiting.

"Lucy." He reached out for me and pulled me close, kissing me.

I smiled at him. "Wolf." I returned his kiss. _Damn!_ There just wasn't any place convenient where we could really be more intimate. It wasn't going to happen in this dirty, cob-webby shack; I'd been softened by sleeping in a bed most nights. Hard to believe a year or so ago I was rutting in dusty ruins or the Maker-damned Deep Roads with Zevran and Riordan. Ah, my sensibilities had become more… sensible. Or, perhaps, it was a testament to my potent attraction to those two that I could get it onamidst such surroundings.

"Do you have news, my lady, or do I dare hope you have other motives?" He kissed my neck, not waiting for an answer.

I sighed with pleasure and leaned into him. "I do have news, and I always have _other motives_, as you say, but this is hardly the place to act on them."

"Ah, you break my heart, sweet Lucy. I could climb up to your balcony tonight."

"There are guards patrolling the keep, you might be mistaken for an assassin. I'd feel terrible if you ended up with a bolt in your back."

He sighed. "There is another option. There's a hunting lodge not far away. It is usually home to the gamekeeper, but you don't have one at present." Picking up my hand, he kissed it. "Can you get away tonight?"

I mused over the proposition for a moment. It would be easier to get away once everyone was in bed for the night. It was best arranged in advance. "Not tonight. Tomorrow would be better. Tell me where the lodge is and I'll meet you there tomorrow, after dinner. I will put Danny to bed and excuse myself early. Around nine o'clock?" I caressed his face with the hand he just kissed.

His eyes danced in the dim lamplight. "The day will seem like an eternity, but I will be patient." He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me again. It was difficult to remember exactly why I'd come in the first place. "Now, what is your news?"

"Oh, yes! I found the _traitor._" I pulled away so I could gloat properly and see his reaction.

"Did you? You look rather happy about it."

"I should be. The traitor is not really a traitor; he was playing with the conspirators, making them think he was." I rummaged in my cloak's pocket and pulled out the note. "This note was given to him by Bann Esmerelle. The two people named are Crow assassins. Bann Esmerelle believed he would help them get jobs inside the keep, only Nathaniel alerted me." I let my gloat burst out of me in its full, obnoxious glory.

"Nathaniel Howe?" he looked puzzled.

"Yes, Nathaniel Howe." I smiled smugly. "I seem to recall saying something about Nathaniel, what was it exactly? Do help me remember."

"Ah, you said your instincts were usually right, I believe." His eyebrow was cocked and he looked amused at my posturing.

"What's that? I'm not sure I really heard you."

He sighed theatrically. "You were right."

I grinned broadly. "Damn right, I was right!" I tossed my hair back and preened for good measure.

"You're a horrible gloater," he said.

I laughed. "I am, I confess." Then I sighed. "Unfortunately there really isn't enough to just go and arrest her and try her for treason, or whatever thing she's guilty of."

"Probably not." Wolf took the note and held it up by the candle. "Just an initial and Nathaniel's word." He pondered the note a moment. "If he has her trust, he could lead her into a trap. Get her to implicate herself in front of witnesses. You could confront and arrest her on the spot then move on the others you already know about."

I nodded. It was a good plan. "Once that is done, this conspiracy is likely over."

Wolf hesitated and nodded. "You'll have no more need for me."

I bit the corner of my lip and looked seductively at Wolf. "Oh, I don't know about that. I might have need of you yet." I briefly raised my eyebrows in the universally understood signal of sexual innuendo.

He chuckled and pulled me to him. "Well that is good to hear, my lady Arlessa. Tomorrow you can tell me your plan for trapping the devious Bann and how I can assist you with that." He kissed my neck and sucked on my earlobe for a moment.

I gave a breathy moan. _Maker!_ I considered ignoring the filthy conditions of the shack and taking advantage of the willing man whose adventurous tongue was exploring my ear. I kissed him again. Oh yeah, it was hot. He pushed me against the door and nibbled my lips, his groin pressing against mine.

"Hold that thought, Wolf." I disengaged myself from the knee-melting scrum. "Tomorrow night we can pick this up where we're leaving off."

"I will count the hours, my lady." There was still no space between us, but he picked up my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my palm. "Sweet dreams, my dear."

"You too, Wolf." I kissed him one last time; this time with a little more restraint.

I left with my naughty bits tingling. Despite my loinal urgings, I knew I'd have to fully disclose my status to Wolf if we were to continue this affair. He deserved to know my heart was committed elsewhere. I walked quickly back to the keep and was waylaid by Varel, then Garavel. Finally I sought out Nathaniel and we put together a plan for trapping Bann Esmerelle. I kept some parts of the plan to myself.

When I finally got to bed I was too tired to do anything but sleep, even though a moment or two of self-indulgence might have taken the edge off my randiness.

_~o~o~o~_

The hunting lodge was hidden away in the woods and was difficult to spot at night from the air, but I did eventually find it. It was a shame I couldn't sense Wolf like I could Grey Wardens. I wondered what I'd have to drink to sense the pheromones of a horny male. Of course, I'd likely be sensing all kinds of them, perhaps not an entirely useful skill to possess. From the air I finally spotted a curl of smoke rising. That led me to the lodge. I landed and changed into something a little more humanoid, my own form.

The door was flung open and Wolf yanked me inside eagerly; he shoved the door shut with his foot. "Maker's breath, woman, you are late. I like to have died for want of you, my sweet." His fingers quickly unhooked my cloak; he pulled it off my shoulders and threw it carelessly over a chair, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he pressed me against the door and his lips were on mine, then on my neck, then my ear. I was already moaning, ready, beyond ready. His hand squeezed my breast through my dress, his thumb teasing over the tip. Even through several layers of fabric it sent an electrical jolt down to my toes.

His passionate impatience was contagious, but I knew we should talk before we got to the point of no return. It was most likely a silly formality; most men would probably be relieved that they were excused from any expectation of being a love interest. Unattached sex had lots of fans amongst those of the male persuasion. So, when he pulled me into another fierce kiss, fingers unfastening my buttons, I had to argue with myself to break away. Like in the cartoons of old, there was a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. _"You worry too much. Relax, enjoy. Have an orgasm for me, baby." _The devil looked remarkably like Jon Lovitz in my imagination. The angel looked like Glinda, the Good Witch. She tsked disapprovingly at me. _"Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"_ The devil cackled, _"She's a great witch when she's bad. Aren't ya?"_ Glinda scowled at Jon. _"Begone, before someone drops a house on your head, too!"_

_Shut up, you two! _I mentally pushed the characters off my shoulders and broke away from Wolf, who was beginning to peel my dress off my arms. "We must talk a moment, Wolf."

I could imagine those words were like having a bucket of ice cold water dumped on you. "Of course, Lucy." He immediately stopped undressing me and pulled my dress back up. "Is something wrong?"

I sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to me. "I just thought that since we're seeing each other I should probably tell you certain things you might not know about me. I don't want to mislead you."

He picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles. "Is this about your affair with the Antivan assassin?" He smiled kindly at me. "I know you had an elven lover, my dear. I did rather a lot of checking up on you after you first contacted me. I had to make sure you weren't part of some elaborate scheme of my father's."

I felt a little relief. "So you know about Zevran?"

He nodded. "Yes, of course. You were worried I was one of those small-minded people that thought humans and elves shouldn't mix?"

"I don't know exactly how much you know about him… about us." Perhaps my relief was a little premature.

"I know that he left you a few months before you came to Amaranthine." He frowned. "What sort of bounder would leave a woman in that condition, I can't even imagine." He kissed my hand again. "I hope your heartache has healed."

"Oh no, it wasn't like that. He left to protect the baby and me. The Crows tried to use me to get to him. He went back to Antiva to confront them directly." It always got to me to remember the words he had said to me. "He said he would destroy them or they would destroy him. Either way we would be free from future Crow attacks."

Wolf looked at me intently, the furrows in his forehead deepening.

"I haven't heard from him, Wolf. I don't know if he is alive or dead. I… We had an understanding before he left that there might be others, but my heart is his." I paused and watched his face. "Perhaps it makes no difference to you, but I wanted you to know before… I just don't want to hurt you." I laughed and it sounded strangely hollow in the room. "I know I'm probably being silly, but I just, you know, I wanted to be honest."

His expression grew clouded. He looked away and I could see him swallow. "No. It's not silly, Lucy. I'm glad you told me." He squeezed my hand. "If he should come back to you, then that would be the end for us, wouldn't it?" He stood up and paced. "I've been foolish," he said with a bitter laugh. "I didn't think this through very well. What sort of pair could we make even if your Antivan didn't return? I'm a wanted criminal. I can't stay in one place very long before someone recognizes me. Sooner or later either my father or Teyrn Loghain is going to find me. You can't risk associating with me, my dear."

Oh crap, this wasn't working out well at all. "I'm sure I could get a pardon for you. Or you could join the Wardens then no one can touch you."

He stepped around behind me and began refastening my buttons. _Crap, crap, crap! _

"No, my dear, I'm not cut out to join your esteemed Wardens. I need to remember myself and do the honorable thing. You have too much at risk to be dallying with the likes of me."

"No, really…" I started to protest. I was a big girl, I'd take my chances. I thought he was reaching for excuses to end the affair. Really, who would want to know that they'd be jettisoned out of their lover's bed the moment a missing loved one showed up?

"Shush, my sweet Lucy, I simply won't hear of it. You have troubles enough without me adding to them." He finished buttoning the back of my dress. "I won't forget you. I hope you won't come to regret our time together." He picked up my hand and kissed it rather chastely.

"No, of course not, Wolf." I tried to keep my face neutral, but I'm sure I must have worn my disappointment. I was also ashamed. Clearly, he wasn't interested in the only sort of relationship I had to offer him. "I am sorry…"

He hushed me again. "No, no. You were absolutely right to bring it up. There's nothing to apologize for." He sat down on the comfortable sofa in the hunting lodge. "Why don't you tell me the plans you've made with Nathaniel Howe for trapping Bann Esmerelle and how I might be of assistance."

I wanted nothing more than to flee at that moment. I'd hurt this perfect gentleman with my assumptions about men. We could execute the plan without him, but I knew he would want to be in on it. His locating the note on the murdered courier and implicating Liza Packton had been key to getting Ser Temmerly to talk. We had quite a few conspirators' names and now we could shut down the entire conspiracy.

I explained our plan and asked if he would like to be there for it. He consented. I would use our signal with the milk bottles to let him know when we had the time arranged.

"Well, I suppose I should be going." I got up slowly, hoping he would change his mind. The unfilled mandate from my loins was turning into a headache. How did something that promised to be fevered second-time sex turn into this? _"You had to go and open your mouth, sweetheart," _the devil mocked me.

Wolf got up with me and embraced me, kissing me on the cheek. "Good bye, my sweet. Trust me, this is for the best."

I squeezed his hand and slipped out of the door; pushing my way into the trees, I turned into a very dejected crow. Winging slowly back to the Vigil, I felt keenly disappointed, yes, but I also felt guilty. Wolf must have had some idea of a future with me. To carry on with him, knowing full well we had no future together, made me into the sort of cad I had always disliked. I quorked desolately into the night: Like a bird, missing her mate. I was alone. So utterly alone.

Oh god! I was starting to sound like a page out of one of my teenaged diaries. But really, I went from having too many lovers to having none at all.

I circled the Vigil, not quite ready to go in to my cold, lonely bed. I saw Anders' room was lighted. I could really use some companionship. I landed on his windowsill and saw him through the window. He was standing in his doorway kissing that bovine girl he'd been flirting with before. I caught myself before rapping on his window with my beak.

"Oh look, Anders," I heard the girl exclaim and saw her point at me, "There's a crow looking in your window. How funny!"

I took off, not wanting to disrupt Anders' plans for the evening. At least he'd get some. I quorked unhappily and flew to the window I'd left open. I changed into human form and walked wearily to my room. As I passed through my sitting room I picked up the brandy decanter and a glass. I shouldered my way into my bedroom and poured myself a deep glass of booze. My room was cold and empty; it would take a lot of brandy to make me forget about my loneliness. I tossed a fireball into the fireplace. The logs caught right away but even their cheerful combustion did nothing to lift my funk.

I slumped onto a loveseat in front of the fire and tried to chug the brandy, but I gasped and sputtered at the taste. I coughed and spattered brandy over the carpet and the front of my dress.

"Great, I can't even get my drink on," I muttered.

"Good, I have something better than that anyway," a voice behind me said.

"Anders! I thought you were busy." I jumped up from my seat, nearly spilling my drink in the process.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I saw the door was open." He walked over to the loveseat and sat down.

I must have looked a mess. I had sprayed myself with brandy. My hair was wild from my time outside in the wind and I probably looked as unhappy as I felt. "I'm sorry, Anders. I didn't mean to intrude on you. I just thought if you were up…"

He shook his head. "No, it's all right. Bess has gotten too clingy, I was looking for an excuse to get away." Staring at me, he seemed to take in my funk. "It's not every night I get a visit from a depressed crow."

I sighed. "I've managed to hash up everything with Wolf." I sat down on the sofa and brought the glass of brandy back up to my lips, preparing to sip this time.

Anders reached out and prevented me from taking a drink. "No, don't. You'll just feel awful in the morning. I have some sweet madcap."

I nodded. "Some weed would be good."

"Sweet madcap is not a weed, it's an herb," he chided me.

I indulged in a sour half-smile. "Hit me with some herbage, man. My night has been a total downer. My whole life is the suckiest, sucking suck in all of Sucksville."

He laughed and shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about Lucy." He pulled a bag out of his robe and began to press the fragrant herb into a pipe. "All this talk of sucking and yet I have a feeling that's something that has been lacking in your life." Lighting the pipe with a small flame from his index finger, he took a small toke and then passed it to me.

I took a much larger hit and closed my eyes, feeling a wave of relaxation starting to radiate out from my core. I passed the pipe back to him and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Maker, I needed this."

He took another hit and spoke while trying not to exhale. "So, what happened, Lucy?"

"Wolf dumped me after I told him about Zevran." I slumped against Anders' shoulder, desiring contact with another human. "I feel guilty about not telling him sooner. I think he had hoped there was a future for us."

Anders wrapped an arm around me and pulled my head down to rest against his shoulder. "Maybe I'm cynical, but I bet what he was really after was marrying a wealthy Arlessa, Commander of the Grey, Hero of Ferelden. When you told him about Zevran he saw his plans dashed. He'll be moving onto some aging, but wealthy, widow next."

I laughed a little bitterly. "I can't believe that of him. He was nice, a true gentleman. He didn't want to have his heart broken when Zevran came back. Can you blame him?" I took another hit.

"Naw, he just played you like a lute. Mark my words, Lucy. Oh, I have no doubt he was counting himself fortunate that you're a beautiful and fascinating woman, but you're a mage and then he finds he can't win you. Two serious strikes against you, my dear."

The herb was really starting to act on me. My head felt like it weighed twenty-five pounds and my neck felt like a pipe cleaner. I rolled my head around on Anders' shoulder, trying to get my mouth free of the feather decoration that his kitten hadn't yet destroyed. I was too limp to succeed. "Help! I'm stuck."

He laughed and pulled me so I was lying across his lap, my head resting against the padded arm of the loveseat. "Better?" he asked.

"Much." I looked up at him. He was so attractive. He had such a nice jaw and a really distinguished nose. Not distinguished like you say of someone who has a big nose. His nose was really nicely proportioned and finely chiseled, aristocratic looking.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Handsomeness, actually. All over your face. You really are an attractive man. If you weren't gay I'd…"

Anders smirked at me. "Gay? Oh, right you told me what that was. Wait! You think I'm gay?" A bemused smile crossed his face. "With all the women you've seen me with, you think I'm gay?"

I laughed, remembering I'd just made that fact up. "I just tell myself that so I won't do anything inappropriate. If you weren't my recruit I'd…" I cut myself off, thinking lucidly for a moment. Blurting this out was a bad idea. "I'd recruit you!"

He smirked at me and narrowed his eyes. "That isn't what you were going to say, is it?" He lifted his hand and held it above me. "Tell me what you were going to say, or I'll have to tickle it out of you."

"Noooo!" I tried to sit up, but my head was way too heavy.

He held me to his lap and his long fingers poked into my waist and I was reduced to pathetic howls and helpless squiggling, not even able to muster the strength to pull away. "Tell me!" He pulled back the hand but held it threatening above me. He stared intently at me and opened his eyes comically wide. "I will magic it out of you." He gestured with his hand, like he was casting a spell. "Obey me!"

I laughed. "Magic it out of me? I've said what I was going to say. Put away the ticklers before I pee myself."

Waggling his eye brows he said, "I suppose that's one way to get you out of your knickers."

"Out of my knickers…" I sighed sadly. "My prospects are dim, Anders. No one wants an old, used-up, has-been of a hero." I poked him feebly in the chest. "You know, back in the good old days of the Blight, I had too many lovers. They were falling out of the rafters. That's the fun part of thinking you're going to die, you discard all those rules that seem like a good idea when you might have to live with the consequences into the future." I sighed, remembering the 'good old days' and forgetting how awful they were.

Anders laughed at me. "We're all going to die someday, Lucy. It could be tomorrow. Perhaps you should discard those rules again."

Remembering two other men who had said words like those to me, both gone now, I smiled sadly. The depression that Anders had warded off began to roll back in like a thick fog. As if reading my mind, he rubbed his thumb over my cheek, wiping away tears that hadn't fallen. I closed my eyes, feeling suddenly weary. Having someone there to share life's disappointments, it felt so good, so right. This was why I couldn't be with him: I was weak. I knew I'd fall in love with Anders and I'd made a promise to Zevran. Perhaps it was already too late, but I could still fight it.

"Don't leave," I whispered to Anders, not sure why I said those words, or what they meant exactly, but my weariness and the fine herbage claimed my consciousness and I fell asleep with my head in his lap.

**Anders**

_Don't leave, she says, and then she falls asleep in my lap. Great! _Wondering what exactly she meant by that comment, he waited to see if she would wake and clarify it. Did she mean, in general, don't leave her as Zevran and Riordan had? Or did she want him to stay with her tonight?

She looked so vulnerable. He was sure he could have pushed past her resolve. A kiss and it all would have come tumbling down. Why hadn't he done it? As much as he just knew in his gut that Wolf had been a fortune hunter, he could actually sympathize about not wanting to be turned out of her bed when her Antivan love returned. There was only one way around it, make sure that if she had to choose between them, he would be her choice.

He stared at her and sighed. Her wild red hair that was forever escaping her braid, tickled against his hand resting on her cheek. Her lips were slightly pursed, as if she were dreaming of a kiss about to happen. He sent a little magic into her to see how deeply she was sleeping; it wasn't the deepest stage of sleep, which would take some time. If he moved her to the bed, she'd certainly wake, so he used magic to deepen her sleep.

He groaned as he lifted her, and himself, off the sofa. Lucy was taller than most women, and packed with muscle. Even though she was slender, she wasn't light. He really needed to learn those arcane spells that increased her strength, it would be useful for tasks like… carrying unconscious women to their beds.

He laid her down on the bed then wrestled with the question of whether he should undress her or not. Why the hell not? He was her physician; he'd seen her most intimate parts when he delivered Daniel. Looking at naked bodies was something he could do clinically. He rolled her over onto her side and she snorted, still deeply asleep. Cursing the number of small buttons down the back of her dress, he unfastened them and then worked her dress off, laying it aside on a chair. He pulled off her boots and long woolen stockings. Next off came a chemise and then her smalls. That left the lyrium necklace around her neck, and another one with a vial of blood, the reminder of the Joining ceremony they'd all gone through. Perhaps it was Riordan's. He never saw her without either necklace, so he left them on her.

_Clinical… right._ He stared at her, lying on her side. Her hips swelled out of a narrow waist and her buttocks were pert, with sacroiliac dimples, a lovely, if rare, feature. Sitting on the bed beside her, he unfastened the end of her braid and slowly unwove her hair. It cascaded over his hand and he used his fingers to comb it out a little. He could imagine burying his hands in that mass of hair. The thought made his groin tighten in response. He shook himself out of his reverie and went to her armoire looking for a nightgown. There he found man's shirt; it looked like maybe she slept in that. He buttoned it up and pulled it over her head, wrestling her arms into the sleeves then pulling it down over her hips.

_Don't leave me, _she had said. He stared at her, considering yet again what she had meant. He decided to take her literally. He undressed down to his smalls and climbed into bed next to her, pulling the covers up over them both. Sliding next to her, he draped his arm over her and held her close.

_I could get used to this,_ he thought. She moved in her sleep, nestling closer. Her slow, regular breathing and the beat of her heart soothed him. He soon followed her into the Fade. More literally than figuratively that night.

_~o~o~o~_

_He was running, yet again, from the Circle and templars were hot on his trail. _

"_Over here, mage!" a voice hissed from beside the road and he saw her gesturing to him. _

_A wood sprite? A desire demon? All he could see was a striking face and a billow of rusty hair rising up out of the shadowy underbrush. _

"_Hurry!" she hissed._

_Anders crashed into the underbrush and stood panting where she crouched watching the road. She stood up and pointed deeper into the woods. "There's an encampment that way. Run! I'll take care of the templars."_

_He hesitated a moment, wondering how one woman could possibly deal with the four templars following him. She was bristling with weapons. She held a bow and there were two vicious daggers on her back, another strapped to her thigh and yet another on her calf. At her feet lay a mage's staff and a dozen bottles that looked like they might be poison flasks. _

"_What part of run don't you understand?" she snarled at him. _

_He looked up, startled by her rudeness, then he ran. It was useless, of course, the templars had his phylactery and they could track him anywhere, now they'd probably kill this poor woman as well. He ran on in the direction she had pointed and found the camp._

_It was empty but for him. He sat on a damp log next to the fire pit with no fire burning. He heard a blood curdling scream, distinctly female, then an explosion. Men's voices shouted and one, no two, screamed in pain. Then there was the clash of steel against steel and the woman screamed again. It wasn't a scream of pain, more like fury, or perhaps channeling pain into fury. The sound of fighting became less, and then finally it grew quiet but for the sound of halting footsteps coming through the underbrush._

_He stood up, ready to run again if it was a templar. He could slow them down with magic, but it wouldn't stop them. His staff was drawn and he prepared__.__ The woman limped out of the dense woods, bleeding from a cut on her face, her nose, and a deep wound on her thigh. Rushing to her he helped her back to the camp and got her to lie down on her bedroll._

"_Andraste's knickers, woman, I don't know how you did it, but four templars?" He put his hand on her leg and healed the worst wound. Who was this woman, he wondered. _

"_I had some time to prepare. I'd been watching them chase you. Ow!" She sucked in her breath as he straightened her nose and healed it._

"_Sorry, that hurts I know. I've had mine broken a time or two by the same sort of guys who broke yours."_

_She stared into his face. "Hard to believe. Your nose looks perfectly… well, perfect really."_

_He smiled jauntily. "Yours will be, too. I'm good at this. I got a lot of practice in on myself. This is my eighth escape from the Tower." He held the flap of skin closed from the wound on her face and healed that. "You won't have any scars either. That lovely skin of yours will be perfectly smooth."_

_She smiled up at him. "I… well, it's rather vain of me, but thank you for that. I was thinking about the scars and broken nose the whole time I was fighting."_

_The furious scream he'd heard, was that her anger over scarring? He smiled with amusement at the thought. "How could you have been watching them chase me and then be ready for them?"_

"_I flew." Something metallic glittered in her hand as she opened it. "This is yours, I believe."_

_Anders gasped. "My phylactery." His voice was hushed with awe. She couldn't have given him a better present. He looked up at her. "I can't thank you enough."_

_She smiled warmly. There was something so familiar about her, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He stayed with her, tending to her wounds long after they had healed. Neither of them cared to notice she didn't need him to check her wounds each evening; they'd all healed perfectly and, true to his word, without a scar._

_He kissed her one evening as they sat next to the fire. It started as a tentative gesture. There was no hesitation as she returned it with a fierce passion__,__ like she'd been waiting a long time to unleash it. Their clothes scattered all over the camp and they ended up on a bedroll, barely. He buried his hands in her auburn curls and she ripped off the thong holding his queue in place. In her passion, she pulled at his hair, nipping and kissing his neck and chin. When he impaled her he felt as if he were where he belonged, finally. Home was wherever this woman was. _

_He used no tricks on her: No magic, no clever words, nothing but what grew spontaneously out of the moment. She cried out, gouging him lightly with her nails as she climaxed. He followed, his hair draping alongside her face, his eyes staring intently into hers as he came._

_Over the months they traveled together, organizing apostates and helping mages escape the tower. She taught him the strange magics she knew and he taught her rudimentary healing. They found and destroyed caches of phylacteries, published manifestos, and boldly offered healing services in the small towns they came across. Most were more than glad to accept their services in exchange for whatever supplies they needed._

_One night as they were again entwined in each other's arms, reality shifted ever so slightly. "Lucy," he moaned, saying her name and truly knowing her for the first time. _

"_Shush, Anders, don't wake me. This dream is nice."_

"_That it is," he buried his hands into her hair and plunged into her warm core and lost himself again._

She woke first to find Anders curled around her, his chest against her back, and his erection pressing against her backside. _Maker! After that dream last night, what a temptation._ She shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Her movement disturbed him and he reflexively pulled her closer. She shut her eyes, remembering the dream, trying to stay with it a moment or two longer.

"Sorry." Anders said sleepily, pulling away from her and rolling onto his back. "Uh, reflex, I guess. Man thing."

She rolled to her other side to face him, her dream fading, but not the feelings. "Oh, quite all right. You stayed last night. Thanks. I really didn't want to be alone." Her speech was overly polite.

He looked at her wondering if they'd been together in the Fade or whether that had been his own dream. "How are you feeling today?"

She stretched and yawned. "Much better, thanks to you." She nearly blushed recalling the sex in her dream. It made up for everything that hadn't happened between her and Wolf. Could Anders have had the same dream? That sort of thing could theoretically happen. She felt the ever-present, warm pulsing of the lyrium necklace against her skin. _Ah, that could explain it. _After the crazy Godzilla dream when she had taken lyrium before going to bed, she had always carefully removed the necklace before sleeping. She wasn't sure how much control she had over her weird reactions to lyrium when she was asleep. Well, if it had been a shared dream, they should pretend it hadn't happened.

"Did you and I, er, intersect in the Fade last night?" Anders asked. He considered not asking her, but he just had to know.

She sat up and clutched her necklace. "No. At least, not that I recall now."

She was lying; he could see it on her face. She was a terrible liar. _All right, if you want to play it that way, I'll go along with it. Let's see how long you can hide from this, missy._ "Right, must have just been me." He sat up in bed and watched her eyes as she stared at his bare chest for a moment. Her gaze swept up to his face; she blushed and looked away.

"I'd better get dressed." She climbed carefully out of bed, making sure the shirt she was wearing covered her. It was barely long enough, but she held it down so it covered her butt cheeks.

He watched her trying to maintain her modesty and smiled rakishly. "There's nothing I didn't see last night, you know."

She flushed. "I guess you did at that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to stay." She still clutched at the bottom of the shirt.

He climbed out the other side of her bed. "No, it was good I did stay. You were in bad shape last night. As your physician, it was my duty."

She tried to hide a smile and politely looked away from his near nakedness. She scuttled to the armoire and pulled out a pair of trousers and a shirt, still trying to keep herself covered. Then she changed behind a screen. When she came out he was already dressed.

"I'd better go," he said. "You're going to be okay?"

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Don't worry about me. Your herbs did the trick. I feel pretty good."

He smiled rakishly. "Of course. A good night's sleep will do that." _And so will a good dose of Fade sex._ "See you later… Commander." He left her standing in the middle of her bedroom, a confused look on her face.

"Andraste's loin lice, what have I done?" she asked her empty room.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes:**_

_To Kate: You'll just have to keep reading. ;)_

_My humble thanks to Biff McLaughlin for continuing to beta-read for me. She's amazing. My thanks to both Biff and Zevgirl for giving me inspiration and egging me on._

_My kitten Pandora got renamed to Marigold. I was researching names for orange kitties and just fell in love with the name. She never really answered to Pandora anyway. She believes she transcends mere names. She's more of a concept than a name. :)_

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I normally like to acknowledge them personally, but life has been crazy so it didn't happen this time. So smooches to you all!_

_Now I have to think of a title for this... not as easy as you think!_


	10. Maintaining Your Credibility

I met Wolf briefly, behind the stables, one last time. He came in response to my arrangement of the milk bottles. It was an awkward meeting, given how he had frickin' dumped me a few days prior. Not that I was bitter… at all.

"Lucy, you look beautiful," he said smoothly. He bent, grasped my hand and kissed my knuckles with considerably less passion and sensuality than he had before. "This is awkward, isn't it?"

I smiled a little and half laughed, managing my discomfort well. "Yes, it is." I squeezed his hand affectionately. "Let's just put it behind us. We've got a meeting set up with Bann Esmerelle. I was sure you would want to be there since you were the key to helping us unravel this conspiracy."

Wolf smiled broadly. "I wouldn't miss it, my dear. What are your plans for this confrontation?"

I'd trusted Wolf with an awful lot. So far he had proven himself a perfect gentleman, and honorable as well, perhaps even a little too honorable to suit me. Still, I wasn't going to tell him about my shape-changing abilities. I was always reticent about revealing that. I felt of all my abilities, it was my ultimate, number-one, secret weapon. Of my new Warden recruits only Anders and Oghren knew what I could do. I would have to tell Nathaniel, but I knew I could trust him now.

"I intend to be hidden nearby and listen in. We won't apprehend her right then, but with me there listening, I will have plenty of evidence for a conviction."

Wolf nodded. "That sounds wise, my dear." He paused a moment, thinking. "How many will you be bringing? Since you don't plan to confront her, I would think you might want to keep it small."

I nodded. "Just me, you, and Nathaniel. I can't try to hide a bunch of guys with armor and weapons."

His nod was agreeable. "Of course, very sensible of you. If there's any trouble the three of us can deal with it."

"I completely agree."

I laid out the plan. As long as Bann Esmerelle's suspicions weren't raised by the letter Nathaniel wrote, I thought we would be fine.

I decided to keep knowledge of our plan limited to the three of us. I knew Garevel and Varel would insist on sending troops and we would risk alerting Esmerelle to our trap if we did.

Wolf took my hand as he bid me farewell. I thought he looked a little sad, wistful even. I felt like an utter cad for my assumptions that he'd be happy being my boy-toy.

"I will see you then, Lucy." He turned and left.

Well, that _was_ awkward. A part of me looked forward to putting this whole thing behind me. Soon Wolf, Bann Esmerelle, and this annoying conspiracy would be just another uncomfortable memory to add to my Sears catalog of uncomfortable memories. I'd acquired a few of them in my fifty-four years of life. I wish I had a Hummel figurine to commemorate each one; they'd look good on a mantle.

_~o~o~o~_

I told Nathaniel about my shape-changing abilities and all the forms I'd mastered: Crow, tiger and horse.

"Seriously? An Antivan Paso Fino? You? You can barely ride!" He seemed boggled by it. Then a look of suspicion crossed his face. "My father wrote to me about a Paso Fino he had purchased. It was stolen from him that very same night."

I looked down, trying to keep myself from laughing with the memory. "There are a few things I did during the Blight that I'm not proud of." I looked up, keeping my face as expressionless as possible under the circumstances. "That wasn't one of them." _Do not gloat, Lucy!_ I reminded myself sharply. Nathaniel may have come to terms with what an utter ass his father was, but he was still the man's son. _Stop twitching__,__ mouth._

Nathaniel stared and cleared his throat. Our relationship had a ways to go, yet. I hoped someday he'd get me; right now, I just seemed to irritate him.

"I was a much better horse than I ever was a rider, although, I'm quite out of practice. I haven't horsed around in ages." _That had to have been a Freudian slip._

"So, let me see if I understand the plan: You are going to be at the meeting as a crow and a wolf will be there as a human?" Nathaniel changed subjects abruptly, apparently not wishing to hear more about the time his father spent astride me. Frankly, it was just as well. Memories of Arl Howe's crotch on my back were part of the Hummel collection on the mantle.

"I'll be there as a crow. Wolf - a man, that's his nickname – he'll be there hidden. If there are any problems, I think the three of us can deal with it. I'm just concerned about trying to hide lots of people and possibly scaring her off."

Nathaniel looked at me suspiciously. "I'd feel better if we had some proper back up."

"I would too, but I expect Esmerelle will scout the area out before she shows up. A weapon or armor clanking is going to ruin everything."

"You're sure you can trust this wolf man? This isn't one of those wolf-people from the Brecilian forest, is it?"

I sighed. "No, he's just a guy who did some spying for us. He helped unravel the conspiracy."

He shrugged. "All right. I trust you to have a good plan." His voice plainly said he didn't really trust me at all. "You did manage to end the Blight and somehow killed an archdemon." It sounded like he was trying to talk himself into it. "It couldn't have all been sheer good luck. You must know what you're about."

I didn't want to take all the credit for ending the Blight, but something told me that Nathaniel's faith was faltering. I kept my mouth shut about incredibly good luck having been a big factor in ending the Blight.

"Well then," I stood up, killing our conversation before it died of unnatural causes, "Sounds like we have a plan."

Nathaniel sighed and shook his head. Clearly I had a ways to go to earn his trust.

~o~o~o~

It was early morning when Nathaniel and I arrived at the meeting place, him on horseback, me as a crow. I did a search of the forested area near the meeting place and found nothing suspicious, but the trees were so thick I couldn't see through them all that well. I also didn't see Wolf, but I wasn't concerned. He might have been well-hidden, or perhaps he was late. Maybe he even decided not to come. Chances are it wouldn't matter, so I didn't worry about it.

Bann Esmerelle arrived on time and alone. That was a good sign. The note must have been believable. She dismounted, tethered her mount to the fence surrounding the field, and walked half the length of the field to meet Nathaniel. I was perched on the fence a distance away from him. I cawed the agreed upon signal to Nathaniel that all looked legit.

He jumped down from the fence, where he had been sitting, and walked slowly to meet her. I ruffled my feathers and picked at little insects, only halfway paying attention to them as I swallowed them. I kept one of my beady black eyes on Esmerelle the entire time.

"Bann Esmerelle," Nathaniel gave her a little bow, nothing too obsequious.

"Lovely to see you again, my boy. Now tell me what is so difficult about the task I gave you."

Nathaniel would need to get her to spill out her plan in front of me. "The pair of Antivan Crows you wanted me to get jobs inside the keep…"

The Bann tilted her head and said nothing.

"I just want to hear more about your plan, Esme. I need to know it is going to work before I risk my life."

"Of course, my boy," Esmerelle said patronizingly. I didn't think it was entirely my imagination, but his face looked rather pinched at her patronizing, overly familiar talk. "You're going to help the pair I mentioned in my note get jobs in the keep. They'll take care of our lovely, young friend and then I will see to it that you are well-rewarded."

_Bitch! Give us details._ I cawed a particularly vile corvian curse that had something to do with shoving a termite up one's cloaca.

Nathaniel looked unimpressed with her. "That's not enough, Esme. I want to know the details. How will they do it? She's had quite a bit of experience with Crows, as you may have heard, even traveled with one during the Blight. I expect she is going to be wise to their tricks."

The Bann began to look irritated with Nathaniel. "I didn't question them as to their methods. They're professionals," she said archly. "I don't particularly care if they poison the bitch, slit her throat, or bury her alive, just so long as the Commander is dead. They agreed to take care of her spawn as well. Then we won't have any issues with inheritance."

Nathaniel sputtered. "Her son, you mean? What possible reason could you have for slaughtering an innocent child? Amaranthine belongs to the Wardens, not to her or her heirs."

She looked up, disbelief growing in her eyes. "Really, sometimes I wonder if you are your father's son. If you didn't have the nose, I'd almost believe your mother had been careless."

Nathaniel purpled; I think if I didn't intervene he would take matters into his own hands. Not that I would object. She wanted to kill my son? I cawed twice, my signal to Nate that we would act now. His face transformed into a grim smile. _She threatened my son!_ I flew down from the fence, landing behind her where she couldn't see me transform from crow to human. Nathaniel's eyes grew big as he watched me, even though he knew my secret and expected it.

"Bravo, Esmerelle," I said dryly.

She jumped, startled by my voice and spun around.

"Elissa!" she hissed. "Where…" She whirled back around and glared at Nathaniel. "So, you _were_ playing me the entire time." She took a few steps backwards, away from us.

"Don't even think you're going to run, _Esme_," Nathaniel sneered. I was so proud of him in that moment I could have pinched his cheeks.

She began to laugh. "Run? I wouldn't miss this for the world." She gestured with a hand and the bushes and trees around us rustled. I saw a handful of armed men come forth. There were several crossbows aimed at us and they were close enough that they'd have to be really terrible shots to miss. "I took precautions, of course. I'm no fool."

I swore softly and looked at Nathaniel. He shot me a reproving glance. If we survived this, I was going to hear from him, but I still had a trick or two up my sleeve. I laughed. I'd seen this TV, it never worked on TV, perhaps I'd have better luck with a bluff than Maxwell Smart did.

"Esmerelle, do you imagine that you're the only one who took such measures?" I hoped I could pull this off. "Even as we speak, there's a division of soldiers closing in on our position, not to mention my entire force of Grey Wardens." I spoke loudly. "Throw down your arms and no one will be hurt."

She narrowed her eyes, coldly assessing me. "I think you're bluffing."

I smiled contemptuously, still working the bluff. "It's possible. I might be bluffing. It is conceivable that I don't have men closing in on us, but then again, I might. Force will be met with force, dear Bann. I wouldn't give you much chance of surviving such an encounter. However, if you surrender right now, I will make certain you have a fair trial."

Bann Esmerelle laughed raucously. It reminded me of blackboards and fingernails. She was too far away for Nathaniel to grab and the men with the crossbows would shoot before he could get to her. She was backing away from us slowly.

"I'm so disappointed, Nate. I had such high hopes for you. Truly, it is sad that the Howe name will end today."

No one ever expected my Fade two-step. I held my hands up in the air to show I had no weapon in hand, but even as I did, I was drawing on the lyrium necklace as it pulsed against my chest. In a moment I was ready; I stepped into the Fade and watched the real world seem to freeze. I drew blades from their sheaths on my back and walked behind Bann Esmerelle. I grabbed her, placing my dagger next to her throat, and then I stepped out of the Fade. To anyone observing it would seem that I had teleported.

"One move from any of you and the Bann gets it," I shouted. I noticed the look of relief on Nate's face and the perplexed expression on the Bann's soldiers. "Throw down your weapons and go!"

Wolf walked out of the woods, holding a crossbow trained on the Bann. "Sorry I'm late, Commander." He smiled charmingly at me. "Not that you need me, it seems you have everything under control here."

I smiled back at him. "Your timing is just fine, Wolf. I think we've got a handle on this conniving harridan, but your help is certainly appreciated." I saw a quick look pass between Wolf and the Bann, almost as if she recognized him.

"My pleasure, as always, Commander." He nudged the Bann in the side with the crossbow.

Bann Esmerelle, who was looking more lemony and puckered than normal, said, "You heard her! Throw down your weapons." The soldiers did as she asked, looked at one another, then turned to go. I held her firmly still, my dagger against her throat, until I saw that they had dropped their weapons and walked off.

"Will you come peaceably with us, Esmerelle? Or do I need to incapacitate you?" Sometimes I annoyed myself with how nice I was. I should just put her to sleep. Perhaps she wouldn't pucker so much if she were unconscious. Seriously, if I saw that ruckled moue once more I would become highly unpleasant.

"You keep your foul magics away from me, mage! I knew those rumors about you were true," she said with a snarl.

"You've seen how fast I can move, Esmerelle. Don't try anything." I let go of her and pushed her ahead of me. I walked side-by-side with Wolf. He kept his crossbow trained on her back and we headed back to the horse Nathaniel had tied up nearby.

"That's quite a trick, Lucy," he said. "You always manage to surprise me, my dear."

I kept my eyes on our prisoner but smiled. "Well, a girl has to have _some_ secrets, Wolf," I bantered.

"Yes, you do have a few secrets." He chuckled. We walked on toward Nathaniel's horse. I didn't notice for a few moments, but Wolf was not at my side any longer. I stopped and turned to look back at Wolf. As I turned around I felt a searing pain in my leg. I screamed as I stumbled and fell.

"I have my secrets, too. I told you, you give your trust too easily," he said. He quickly reloaded and trained the crossbow at my chest.

"Wolf?" I gasped. "What the fuck?" I tried to gather my magic, but felt my mana draining away. I pulled on the lyrium in my necklace but it dissipated almost as fast as I could draw it.

Nathaniel stopped walking and turned, taking in the situation, his blades already in his hands.

"Your commander dies if you try anything, Howe," Wolf said evenly.

"Just kill her already!" Bann Esmerelle shrieked. "What are you waiting for?"

"Pay up, Esmerelle. I said I would get rid of her, I never said I would kill her."

My vision was beginning to dim, whether from loss of blood or because there was something draining my magic, I couldn't tell. The Bann grabbed a purse tied to her belt. I looked at Nathaniel. "Run." I mouthed to him. I made the hand signal for retreat. His horse was just a few yards away and he took that moment of their distraction to dash to it. He made an amazing leap onto his mount and sliced through the rope tying it to the fence. He was off before Wolf could shoot him. I was very glad at that moment that Nathaniel was a strong rider.

"Give me your crossbow. I'll kill her if you don't have the guts to do it," Esmerelle hissed.

Wolf shook his head. "No. Templars are coming. They'll take her off your hands." He gestured and I could see them walking toward us from the way Nathaniel had just ridden.

If I could just shake this dizziness, I might be able to gather enough mana from the lyrium necklace to do something about this. I tried to focus, but the pain was too much.

"Sorry about the bolt in your leg, Lucy. I hated to mar your perfect skin, but I needed to get that mage bane into you somehow."

Ah, that explained it. Mage bane. I knew Zevran used it, but I'd never had it used on me before. I tried to pull myself along the ground to the fence. If I could just stand… I hissed with pain. "You will pay for this." A surge of pain and dizziness swept over me and I groaned. "Both of you." That last was barely more than a whisper.

Wolf crouched down next to me. "I am sorry, my dear, but my debts were piling up. I feel really terrible about this. Please don't take it personally." He reached out to touch my cheek, but I yanked my head away from his hand. "It would have been much better if you had just married me. I think we could have been happy together." He smiled a little sadly. "Well, the templars are here. You'll do fine at the Circle, I'm sure." He brought his mouth next to my ear. "I didn't mention anything about you not being Elissa Cousland."

"You're…" I panted with the effort of trying to speak, "a bastard, Wolf."

He stood up and looked down at me. "Yes, I suppose I am." He gestured the templars over and pointed at me. "There's the apostate." He smiled at me and made a little, courtly bow then walked off into the woods.

Esmerelle, seeing he was gone, reached for one of my blades. "Die, Cousland bitch!" she was about ready to stab me with my own blade, but a templar blocked the blow with his sword.

"Sorry, ma'am, we're taking her to the Circle Tower for examination."

"She's a mage! She's an… abomination! A blood mage and a … a murderess! I saw it myself!"

The templar shook his head. "We'll determine if there's any truth to that, my lady. You needn't worry yourself. She'll be tested thoroughly."

I thought about arguing with the templars that they had no jurisdiction over me, but I would rather be with them than with Esmerelle, so I kept my mouth shut. There was also an alarming amount of blood pooling under me. I hoped the templars had some skill with first aid.

One of the templars crouched down and snapped a collar around my neck. "There you go, Miss. No magic for you until we get you to the tower."

"She isn't going to make it to the tower with that wound," one of them said.

Bann Esmerelle was shrieking about killing me… abomination… demon… unnatural creature from the Fade… Her voice began to fade away to a distant screeching as my consciousness dimmed.

"That's all right now, Miss. It's probably best if you're not awake for this," a kind voice said. "Don't fight it."

"Oh, for the Maker's sake, Harrison, just pull the damned thing out. She's a mage, after all." a much less kind voice said as I sank into unconsciousness.

My reprieve from pain and fear didn't last very long. The next thing I knew I was sitting upright screaming, feeling like someone had just sliced through my leg down to the bone. I doubt there was anything very heroic about the Hero of Ferelden as tears streamed down my face, my nose ran, and I couldn't stop screaming. I'd had my share of wounds before but nothing had felt this terrible. Perhaps it was the mage bane, or my lack of mana. I couldn't shut the door on the Fade like I'd done before when wounded, because I couldn't contact the Fade at all.

"Shut up, mage!"

Something I can only describe as having air compressed around you - like clapping a fly between your cupped hands and you were the fly - happened. I couldn't scream because my lungs weren't working any longer. My consciousness melted away yet again and I thought this might be for the last time. I would have liked to utter some last words, said goodbye to my infant son. Maybe I could have said something that could be carved on a memorial, but without air I couldn't even speak. Just as well, it probably would have been obscene.

**Anders**

"Navigating the Fade" by Luprous Grayson. The book title drew Anders in. He plucked it off the shelf and leafed through the table of contents. "Seven warning signs of demons," he read and then laughed. "Sign one, they make you solve a riddle or you have to fight them."

"What are you reading, twitchfinger?" Oghren's gravelly voice broke the silence of the keep's library.

"Oh, just another book about the Fade. As if I haven't already read dozens. This one is different though."

"Never been to the Fade, myself. It's like a big club that dwarves can't join. Makes you wonder who arranged that nonsense. What do they have against dwarves?" Oghren sounded offended.

Anders looked at the dwarf and cocked his head. "Huh! I never thought of it that way. Perhaps the Maker didn't make dwarves. Maybe I can stump a Revered Mother with that one." Anders smiled. "Thank you, Oghren, I think I owe you a drink for that keen observation."

"No problem, twitch. I'll collect on it tonight." He left the library and Anders went back to his book.

"_Chapter 10, Finding Someone in the Fade_. Bingo!" He snapped the book shut and stuck it under his arm. He walked out of the library into the great hall when Nathaniel slammed open the keep door.

"Wardens, to me!" he shouted, his voice hoarse and sounding of alarm.

Anders only had a few yards to dash to see him. He was sweaty and his hair was a mess. Lucy and Nathaniel had left a couple of hours ago. Now he was back alone? "Where's the Commander?" he asked. His stomach instantly lurched, knowing it wasn't going to be good news. Varel came out of his office to see what the ruckus was.

"Is something wrong? Where's the Warden-Commander?" he asked.

"Last I saw, she had a crossbow bolt through her leg. I passed four templars on the way back and I think they were coming for her. It's a long story, but her friend, Wolf, double-crossed her. Where are Oghren and Justice?"

"I'll get the others," Varel said and rushed off to alert Justice and Oghren.

Anders paled, his eyes growing flinty. "I knew he was up to something! Did you leave her there with him?"

"She signaled to me to run. I didn't want to, but we both knew that pair didn't want to leave behind any witnesses."

"Pair? Who was Wolf working with?" Lucy had been keeping to herself since that night together in the Fade. She stopped confiding in him and seemed to be avoiding being alone with him.

"We were there to trap Bann Esmerelle into revealing the conspiracy. It… didn't go quite according to plan. She was prepared for us."

"Fucking Maker, Nate, why didn't you take me with you?" Anders ran his hand through his hair in frustration; half of it escaped from his queue so he impatiently pulled off the leather thong holding it back and threw it on the floor. "Templars now? So Wolf turned her in to the Chantry. I'm going to fucking kill that bastard."

"I think he did it so Esmerelle wouldn't kill her."

Justice and Oghren jogged down the stairs ahead of Varel.

"Come on, they can't have gotten too far with her," Nathaniel said.

The four Wardens ran to the stables. Nathaniel's horse was already saddled and ready to go. He worked with the stable boy to get three more horses ready. There was one horse that Justice could ride. It wasn't too frightened of him and his dead smell.

Nathaniel filled in Oghren and Justice as they rode. They pushed the horses as fast as possible, given the varying skill of the riders.

"Andraste's pink lips, Nate, we need to hurry. Maker only knows what those templars are doing to her."

Nate shook his head. "I doubt they'd get much sport with her, she was bleeding quite heavily. She was still conscious, though."

"You never know with templars." Anders could just visualize the sort of cruel, sadistic games they might play with her, conscious or not. He sent a small lightning bolt into the flank of his horse and it took off in a full gallop. Anders forgot his fear of falling out of the saddle. He gripped his reins and handfuls of the horse's mane, holding on for dear life.

"Anders! You can't face those templars alone. We're going to need Oghren and Justice," Nathaniel shouted after him.

"The hell I can't!" he yelled back. He had no clear plan. In his mind all he could see was her being tormented, perhaps raped, by a gang of sadists. Or even Wolf. _Wolf! _The name that had been a source of irritation and annoyance was now the source of a murderous rage. If Wolf were there, he had no doubt he would incinerate the man with four templars looking on. _Fuck them all! Just let them try to take either of us._

He rode hard for some time, casting haste on his horse. He lost the other three Wardens somewhere behind him. Despite his fury he reigned in when he saw four templars coming down the path leading a horse. There was someone on the back of the horse, slung over its back like a sack of grain. The other three Wardens were well behind him. They wouldn't be along for quite some time. Nonetheless he got off his horse and walked to the templars, holding up a hand. "Hail," he said neutrally, trying to keep the burning hatred out of his voice. He needed to keep it together to help Lucy.

"Isn't that Anders?" he heard one of the templars say. "Rylock went after him a few months ago. Never came back."

"It is. Finally got smart about wearing a robe, it seems," another replied, a sardonic smile on his face.

The first one laughed raucously. "Still has the staff, though. Stupid git."

A third templar spoke, one Anders recognized as Harrison, one of the few decent templars he'd known at the tower. Harrison had captured him a few times and always apologized at having to take him back to the tower.

"That _is_ Anders," Harrison said, "and he's a Grey Warden now. The Knight-Commander himself acknowledges that Anders is free. Besides, we need his healing skills to help this apostate. She isn't going to last long at this rate."

_Thank the Maker, Harrison is here_. There was some hope that he wasn't going to die trying to rescue Lucy.

How to do this? He wanted to tell them they had the Hero of Ferelden and the Warden-Commander and they were going to be in a boatload of trouble, but they'd never believe him. So he opted to play meek. "Harrison," he addressed the one reasonable templar in the bunch, "I just want to help that woman on your horse. Do as you see fit with both of us, but let me heal her first."

Harrison nodded and walked to the horse. Another templar stood in his path. He could see them arguing. He hoped Harrison had the stones to stand up to the other, more aggressive templar. The reasonable templar stood his ground and untied Lucy from horse they'd slung her over. He carried her over to Anders, the argumentative templar following him.

"I swear to Andraste, Harrison, if you trust this maleficar you're going to get us all killed."

"Leave it be, Cecil. We're not going to let this woman die when we can save her."

Harrison put Lucy on the ground before Anders. Oddly, with everything else going wrong, it seemed a horrible affront to place her on the dusty earth, on her belly, with nothing under her. Anders looked up at Harrison and nodded. "Thanks," he said shortly. He put his hands on her and searched for her wounds. Her leg was badly damaged. The bleeding had already slowed, but he sent some magic into her to slow it further. "We've got to get her leggings off. I need to see this. Have you got a knife?"

Cecil drew a knife out, but Anders didn't trust him not to _accidentally _slip. Apparently Harrison didn't trust him either because he took the knife from the man and knelt down next to Lucy and began cutting through her already tattered leather leggings.

"Cecil pulled out the arrow," Harrison said, sounding almost apologetic. He finished slicing through the leather and Anders pulled it away from the wound. "Sweet Maker," the templar cursed when he saw the messy wound on the back of her leg.

Anders had seen many wounds far worse than this, but this time he felt queasy. More damage had been done pulling the arrow out than when it went in. There were torn muscles, tendons, and it barely missed a major artery. He could already sense the beginning of an infection. "You don't pull an arrow out of a wound like that, you cut it out," he said through gritted teeth. "I need some water to wash this out."

Harrison turned to Cecil. "Get some water from my pack, please."

"Get it yourself, mage lover." Cecil turned around and walked back to the other two templars.

Anders spared them a glance and thought they looked mutinous. He hoped Nate and the others arrived soon. Harrison shook his head, walked to the horse and looked through his pack. He returned with a skin of water.

"Thanks," Anders said. He flushed out the bloody, gaping wound in the back of Lucy's leg. It didn't look any better cleaned than it did before, but now he could see the extent of the damage. He poured a little water over his hands to get off the worst of the dirt and then put his fingers into the hole. A tendon had been raggedly torn when the bolt was pulled out. "I'm going to need you to bend her leg at the knee. That should put some slack into the tendon."

Harrison nodded and picked up her leg, bending it as Anders directed.

Anders closed his eyes and let his healing senses guide him. He held the two separated pieces of tendon pinched between two fingers and let his magic flow into them, growing them back together. It would hold for now. He sent his magic after the brewing infection and then pushed the torn muscles together and healed them. Pouring nearly everything he had into the muscles he couldn't spare much for the skin. He held the ragged edges of the wound with his fingers and did what he could; it wasn't going to be enough to leave her skin as flawless as it started.

"You're a good healer, Anders," Harrison said, "perhaps the best. This girl was lucky."

"This _girl_ is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden." He noted that her color was improving from waxy white, but her skin felt cold from blood loss.

Harrison looked up at Anders, worry spilling across his features. "We weren't told that. You mean this is… Elissa Cousland?"

Anders nodded. "Yes. Also known as the Hero of Ferelden. Remember her? Killed the archdemon, friends with the King, Queen and Teyrn Loghain. Ring any bells?" He couldn't keep the acid overtones from his voice, not even for a nice guy like Harrison. He was still a templar. "Right now you lot had better hope she wakes up pretty soon and is in a forgiving mood when she does."

Harrison rubbed the back of his neck. "Now that you mention it, we didn't actually see her use any magic. We just had a report that an apostate mage was being apprehended. We were to take her to the tower for questioning and testing." Harrison glanced back over his shoulder at the other three templars. "They'll never believe it." He sighed. "I'll do what I can." He turned to confront his three colleagues. "It seems there's been a bit of a mix-up. This woman is Elissa Cousland, the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden."

"Right," Cecil said scornfully, "and I'm the Empress of Orlais." He held up a hand and bent his little finger and minced about, eliciting laughs from the other two templars. "Maker, Harrison, don't tell me you bloody believe what's coming out of this maleficar's mouth. It's beyond time we separated his yap from the rest of his body. This boy has had far too many chances." He reached behind his shoulder for his greatsword.

Harrison lifted a hand in a placating gesture. "Put the sword away, Cecil. There isn't going to be any violence. We'll take… the woman to Vigil's keep and verify Anders' story. He'll come with us." He turned around and Anders nodded.

One of the templars Anders didn't recognize snorted. "There's been far too much coddling of mages here. I stand with Cecil." He reached for his sword as well. The fourth templar nodded and drew his sword, too.

Harrison drew his sword, preparing to face down his peers. Anders took in the situation with alarm. He expected a smiting at any moment. It would hurt him, but it was be devastating to Lucy in her condition. It would be best if he put some distance between him and her so if they did… when they did… she wouldn't be hit. He turned to run back to his horse and, as he predicted, a smite knocked him several feet through the air, taking his breath away. It certainly wasn't the first time, so he knew what to expect: A few moments where he couldn't breathe, talk or cast spells. He struggled to his feet and turned. A templar was coming to him, his heavy sword held menacingly before him.

Anders mentally thanked Lucy for forcing him to train with his staff as a weapon. It might end up a pile of splinters, but it could buy him enough time. He stole one more look at Lucy; she was still unconscious, lying on the dusty road. It was concerning, she should be waking up, but if she had lost enough blood… He couldn't think about it now, a sword was coming for his head. He blocked the blow. Splinters flew off his staff but it didn't break. Behind him he could hear horses. Finally! Maker's breath, they were slow. He heard Nathaniel shout as he blocked another sword strike. He heard the air next to him buzz and an arrow found a slight gap in the templar's armor, just above the gorget. The templar stumbled back, grasping at the arrow. Nathaniel had taken the shot from horseback.

"Fucker!" Anders yelled and thumped him in the head with his staff for good measure. It wasn't needed, the templar was dying.

The templar fell and Anders turned in time to see Harrison fall from a strike to his head. His helm was crumpled on the side where the swing hit, but he wasn't dead, that much Anders could tell. The smite had drained him of mana so he couldn't help out the templar until he had some lyrium.

Oghren and Justice both ran into the battle, each taking an opponent. Anders knew the remaining templars would be down soon, so he ignored the battle and rummaged through the pack of the fallen templar looking for a lyrium potion. Finding several, he drank one and felt his magic returning. He skirted the battle between the Wardens and the templars and pulled Harrison to a safe spot.

Anders took off the wounded templar's helm and sent healing magic into his head. He had a bruise on his brain and there was inflammation. His brain was under pressure from the accumulating fluids; if he didn't die, he would be severely brain damaged. Magic could take care of the inflammation and bleeding, but not the fluids. He cast a sleep spell to make sure the templar would not awaken. He didn't have any of the proper tools for this so he would have to improvise.

Using a tightly focused fire spell he began to burn a hole through the man's scalp into his skull. He had to focus everything on controlling the spell. It had to be powerful, yes, but very, very narrow. The skull was burning away in increments.

"Maker, Anders, I know you hate templars, but this is going a little far, don't you think?" Nathaniel said.

He hadn't heard the fighting stop in his concentration. "I'm trying to save him. I need lyrium. Go through their belongings and get me whatever you can."

Justice hovered over him. "They would have killed you, yet you save them? How is that just?"

Anders swilled down a potion that Nate handed him. "This one tried to get the others to see reason. They turned on him." He went back to burning a small hole in the templar's skull.

"Just what the stone are you doing?" Oghren asked.

Anders shut off the fire at the end of his finger. "Saving the man from becoming an idiot. Enough questions! Keep the lyrium coming." He refocused on his task, fearing that he might go too far and burn into the brain, especially with people distracting him. He stopped only to quaff another lyrium potion. The last few minutes, sweat poured off his brow from the tension and exertion. Finally he could see the gray, wet looking brain at the end of the small hole he had burned. He turned Harrison so the hole could drain excess fluid away from the brain and was gratified to see a few drops escape. Probing into his skull with his magic again, he could see how best to encourage more draining. A thin trickle of liquid poured out of the hole. The pressure was reduced now. He should be all right, in time.

Anders stood, slightly dizzy from drinking so much lyrium and still feeling the after effects of the smiting. "Lucy will be all right. She lost a lot of blood and is still unconscious. It'll take time for her to recover. We're going need a cart."

"Varel and Garevel are on their way here with some men," Nathaniel said.

Anders walked over to Lucy and checked her again. "We've got to keep her warm. She's lost a lot of blood. Gather some cloaks, whatever you can. Justice and Oghren, please gather some firewood." He spread his own cloak over the ground and moved her onto it. Nathaniel collected cloaks from the other Wardens and Anders tucked them around her. He sat down next to her wishing he could hold her to impart his own warmth to her, but with the others around, it probably wasn't a good idea.

Nathaniel, he noticed, seemed to be glaring at her.

"What's eating you?" Anders asked.

"It was idiotic. It's a wonder she didn't get us both killed. Who the hell was this guy named Wolf and why did she trust him?"

Anders looked away. "Look, the less said about it the better. She made a mistake, she trusted the wrong person." He shrugged. "It happens."

Nathaniel barked out a short, bitter laugh. "She'd better enjoy her nap because she's going to hear it from me when she wakes up."

"Really?" Anders tone took on a sarcastic note. "She took a chance on someone and was wrong. Seems like someone else I know benefited from her willingness to trust." He stroked her hair without thinking about who might be witnessing the gesture. "Did you never think of betraying her, Howe? Can you tell me honestly that it never crossed your mind?"

Nathaniel glowered at Anders. "You're besotted with her, aren't you?" He snorted with derision. "That doesn't cloud your judgment at all."

Anders wasn't a man who angered easily, but Nathaniel was pissing him off. He stood up and moved just a little too close, his brows furrowed and nostrils flaring slightly. "Answer the question, Nathaniel. Bann Esmerelle trusted you, it never crossed your mind to side with her? You're either an accomplished actor or an accomplished liar."

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes and glared back, closing the space even further between himself and the mage.

Anders considered what to do. They were at that point where it either needed to escalate to violence or someone had to back down. Trouble was he didn't really have any experience with the sort of violence that this kind of confrontation called for. At the tower, such matters of honor would be resolved by a magical duel with well-established rules. Someone would end up badly singed or glued to the ceiling, but he suspected such battles of honor had different rules for non-mages. He was probably expected to physically strike his opponent with his fists, something he hadn't done since before puberty. Nathaniel would destroy him in a brawl of that sort.

"If you boys are going to kiss go ahead and do it, don't mind me." Oghren's deep, gravel-pit voice broke through their combative posturing and they both turned to him. "Twitch, I'm going to need your healing skills, I got a splinter the size of a nug under my fingernail." The dwarf dropped a large armload of wood right next to the two men. "Ancestor's hairy balls, I took a piss on a badger out there. If I hadn't already been pissing it woulda scared it out of me when it hissed and swiped at my junk."

The image of Oghren pissing on a badger was so surprising that Anders began to laugh. Nathaniel did, too. The tension went out of both men and turned into hilarity. Anders laughed so hard his eyes watered. "Maker's bung-hole, dwarf, how did you end up pissing on a badger?"

Oghren stumbled a little, obviously intoxicated, and shrugged. "It looked like a log. Seemed like something to aim at."

"Uh, does your… _junk_… need healing?" Anders asked, trying to suppress his laugh.

"No, I got out of the little blighter's way." He held out his hand for Anders to look at. Anders was still chuckling as he healed Oghren's hand.

Justice joined them and they set about making a fire, moving Lucy, buried under a mound of horse blankets and cloaks, closer to it. They sat around it while they waited for Garevel to find them.

"Look," Nathaniel said quietly to Anders as they sat around the fire, "I'm sorry about that back there. I imagine the commander is going to beat herself up enough. She doesn't need me to tell her she made a mistake."

Anders turned to look at Nathaniel and smiled, pleasantly surprised that he was apologizing. "Don't worry about it, brother. You weren't entirely wrong either."

Nathaniel nodded and smiled. He stared into the fire and said nothing more awhile. Anders looked into the fire, too, mesmerized by the flames.

"She could use a friend, I suppose," Nathaniel said, tipping his head in Lucy's direction. "I imagine you two have a lot in common, being mages and such."

Anders laughed quietly. "She is rather unique, but yes, she could use some friends. She left them back in Denerim, or they left her. Or died."

Nathaniel stared into the fire. "I guess I know how that feels. No one wants to be friends with a disgraced traitor's son."

Laughing Anders clapped Nathaniel on the back. "Think again, Howe. You've got an apostate mage, a dead guy, a drunken dwarf and a possessed noble as friends. If you want them."

Nathaniel laughed heartily. "Ah, we do make quite a team, don't we?"

Anders turned back to the fire and stared into the flames again. "That we do, Howe. That we do."

The mound that Lucy was buried in shifted and he saw a bit of tousled red hair poke out and heard a faint moan. "Maker's ass… how am I alive?"

Anders went to her side and put a hand on her forehead. Her skin was still quite cold from the blood loss. "You're a very lucky woman. You had one of the few reasonable templars in all of Ferelden looking out for you."

"This must be some new definition of lucky I wasn't previously aware of," she grumbled, her teeth chattering. "I'm freezing!"

"Blood loss will do that. That's one thing I can't do much about. Your body will have to make new blood." He fought a strong urge to climb under the mound of cloaks with her and wrap himself around her. The realization of how close he had come to losing her hit home with him. It was quickly followed by anger. He wanted to lash out at her for trusting Wolf, exactly what he had criticized Howe about a short while ago. His mouth opened and a torrent of angry words nearly spilled out, but with one look at her pallor he shut it again.

"What happened, Anders? Did Nathaniel get away? I should talk to him… need to apologize." She tried to push herself up, rising up only a little ways and then falling back. "Help me up."

"No. You're too weak. Rest. Garevel will get here soon with a cart."

"Help me up. That's an order," she said weakly.

Anders arched an eyebrow at her, his anger flaring with her sudden bossiness. "An order, eh? Well, your physician has an order for you. Sleep!" Despite his earlier extreme exertions, drilling into Harrison's skull and healing Lucy's wound, he managed to pull together enough mana for a sleep spell. Her struggles to rise suddenly ceased and her head rolled to one side.

He heard a quiet snickering behind him and turned to see Nathaniel watching. "What's so funny, Howe?" He was still irate with Lucy and it spilled over onto his brother Warden.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." He peered down the road. "Looks like Garevel is finally here." He seemed to be avoiding answering the question.

Garevel arrived with an armed force, although three templars were dead and the forth was unconscious. Wolf and Bann Esmerelle were gone. They did bring a cart for casualties and the peacefully slumbering commander and wounded templar were loaded into it. Anders rode in the cart with his two patients, Lucy's head resting in his lap. The other Wardens rode their horses back to the keep.

He was exhausted and drained of mana, having been pummeled by templar magic, and then having his emotions yanked from anger to relief back to anger by the woman he… by Lucy. He ran his hand over her tangled curls as she slept. _What was she dreaming of?_ He couldn't stand on the sidelines any longer. They couldn't pretend there wasn't something there between them. When she had recovered, they would talk, he decided.

Once they were back at the keep Nathaniel pulled him aside. "Oghren, Justice and I are going after Wolf. Garevel is taking a force to arrest Bann Esmerelle."

Anders nodded and smiled grimly. He clasped Nathaniel's forearm and the other Warden grasped his. "Good luck. I hope you catch the bastard."

Nate nodded and smiled. "Take care of the commander."

"She'll be fine."

Anders watched the three Wardens leave, wishing he were riding out with them. As angry as he had been with Lucy, he didn't want her to have to face Wolf again, or have that prospect hanging over her head. Nate would do the right thing, if they found him, and he prayed they would. He only wished he could personally melt the man's face off.

_~o~o~o~_

It must have been after midnight; Anders was drowsing over the book he had found in the library when the keep's doors slammed opened. He got up and met the three Wardens in the great hall. They looked grim and weary. Nathaniel nodded curtly to Anders. "That wolf will never howl again."

"Good."

"What of Esmerelle?" Nathaniel asked.

"Garevel brought her in several hours ago. She was hissing and spitting like a viper."

The corner of Nathaniel's mouth turned up and he nodded. "Well, good night then."

"It is." Anders watched the three Wardens climb the stairs to their rooms. It was one of the moments when he felt real pride at being a Grey Warden. They took care of their own.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **Many thanks the for the reviews! They brighten my day and keep the rat running the maze. Always interested in feedback of any sort. My thanks to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading! She's awesome. And thanks to Zevgirl and Biff for letting me bounce ideas off them on Google+. _

___Terribly fun to get to use the medical procedure known as trepanning in a story. I'm a bit of a medical nerd. I used to be really addicted to shows like "Dr. G, Medical Examiner and Mystery Diagnosis". Anyway, drilling into someone's skull was done even in prehistoric times. They still do it to relieve pressure on the brain when someone has a lot of fluid accumulating. Anders got to be House, MD this chapter._

_I didn't originally plan for Wolf to sell-out but I was getting bored by the whole conspiracy and I thought it would make a completely unexpected and interesting plot twist. If you want to read a story that treats Wolf much better, take a read of my "The Wolf Pact". It's rather rough, grammatically, but the Dark Wolf is dashing, handsome, and definitely a leading man with an interesting past. I like to think of him as Antonio Banderas. The inspiration for this Wolf was Westley from The Princess Bride (for looks), but more like Prince Humperdinck__ for dastardliness._

_If this plot twist broke your heart because you loved Wolf, my apologies. I do love to shake the story like a snow-globe from time to time._

_Every now and then someone yells at me for writing a character different than what they would have me do. So yell away if it makes you feel better. I just hope you'll keep reading. _


	11. The Reproductive Cycle of a Brood Mother

**Lucy**

My first scar. I stood before the mirror, nightgown pulled up, twisting my head over my shoulder to see it in the mirror. Strange to think of everything I had endured during the Blight and Elissa Cousland's hide had come through flawlessly intact, thanks to Wynne. Now it was marred with a vicious, twisting scar down the back of her… my leg. It served as a bitter reminder of Wolf, of trust gone very wrong. How could my judgment have been so off? It made me question everything. How could I ever trust myself again? How could anyone else ever trust me? What about Daniel? What sort of loser mother makes the sort of mistakes I've made and for the reasons I made them?

I let my nightgown drop to cover my leg again. I went into the nursery and stared at Daniel. He cooed in his crib and waved his little arms.

"My lady, you're feeling better today? Daniel has missed his mother." Iveta smiled at me.

"A little," I replied, my voice sounded as hollow as I felt. I wanted to pick up Danny and smell his baby-smell, feel his warmth… but I was assailed by doubt of my skills as a mother, as a person. _Your mother is a complete and total fuck-up, Danny. _Suddenly I saw everything that had gone wrong in my life as evidence of my incompetence: Riordan's death, Zevran's unknown status, Wolf_. _Every time Wolf's name rippled through my mind, it felt like another arrow slicing through my thigh.

An overwhelming exhaustion swept over me and I longed to go back to sleep. Once I had slept a little more, perhaps I would be ready to face life again. "Actually, I'm tired. I think I'll go back to bed." I turned and went back to my room and crawled into bed. Burrowing into my covers, I cast a sleep spell on myself, again.

**Anders**

She hadn't been out of bed in a week, not even to eat or take a bath. He looked down at her and frowned. Her hair would be a bird's nest, if the bird were drunk or insane. She was starting to smell ripe as well. There wasn't anything wrong with her, other than her mental state. He'd had patients before like this. After a severe illness sometimes they fell into a depression. Sometimes they never recovered.

"Not you, Lucy. This is not you," he said to the sleeping lump in her bed. "Wake up. This ends now."

He paused a moment waiting to see if she stirred, but she didn't. He pulled the covers off her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Get up, Lucy. This has gone on long enough."

She still didn't stir. He sent some magic into her and found she was profoundly asleep; the sort of sleep that only comes from a sleep spell. There was nothing he could do about it. He had no ability to dispel magic. But there was someone who could. He walked down the hall to one of the guest rooms. Harrison, the templar, was lodging there. He was still recovering but, thanks to Anders, he survived and his brain was intact and functioning, better than most templars' brains.

"Harrison," Anders nodded to the templar when he opened the door. "Are you feeling good enough to use your abilities?"

The templar's face looked puzzled. "Well, I suppose it depends. Am I tracking someone down?"

Anders shook his head. "No, I just need some magic dispelled." This would be awkward. Harrison didn't yet know that Lucy was a mage.

"Oh? Did you miscast a ward or something?" Harrison looked very curious. "You're too good of a mage for that."

Anders frowned. "No. Look, there's something I have to tell you, but it needs to remain private. Grey Wardens are outside the Chantry's purview, do we agree on that?"

Harrison nodded. "You've got nothing to fear from me, Anders. Knight-Commander Greagoir himself confirmed you're the Wardens' problem now." He paused a moment and rephrased it. "I suppose he didn't really mean it quite that way, but he was rather vexed with you at the time."

Anders could almost be amused with the overly polite and precise way Harrison spoke. "It isn't me. It's the Warden-Commander. She's spelled herself asleep and won't stay awake."

Harrison's eyes widened with surprise. "She's a mage? How can that be? Surely someone would have noticed before now."

Anders shrugged. Harrison might be a pretty decent guy, for a templar, but he wasn't about to trust him with the truth. "Her family kept it a secret. They were rich enough, powerful enough, to succeed."

"She's been an apostate all her life? Maker's breath, Anders, she could turn at any time. She needs training."

"You make her sound like a bottle of cream. I assure you, she isn't going to be making any deals with demons. She did rescue the Circle when other, trained mages, or templars, couldn't."

Harrison nodded. "She did at that."

"Wynne had a hand in training her during the Blight, you know." He decided to leave out how much training she'd received from the daughter of Flemeth.

"Wynne is a good teacher but…" The templar's confusion was still evident. Mages are usually trained from a very early age.

"Look, I just need you to dispel that sleep spell and drain her mana so she can't recast it."

"I need to know why, Anders," the templar insisted. "I really shouldn't get involved in Warden affairs."

Anders sighed. _I take it back, his brain is just as bad as all templars' brains._ "Because she's not well, Harrison." He threw up his hands in frustration. "Look, I saved your life and kept you from being an idiot. You _owe _me."

Pursing his lips, Harrison thought it over and then slowly nodded. "All right. I'll do it. But in the future I won't meddle in Warden business."

_Stupid git! If I were commander, I'd invoke the Right of Conscription and just order him to do it. _Anders escorted the templar to Lucy's bedroom.

Harrison closed his eyes and held out a hand. There was a subtle shimmer in the air. "That should do it."

Lucy moaned and turned over. Her eyes cracked open and she looked at the two men standing over her. "Anders, go away," she mumbled. She began to cast her sleep spell again but Harrison did something and she stopped mid-cast. "Fuuuh…?" She peeled her eyes open further and they focused on Harrison. Recognition dawned. She sat up in alarm and scrabbled across the bed away from him. "Don't smite me, bro!"

Harrison's brow furrowed. "I'm not going to smite you, Commander. It's all right. But it's best if you don't use any magic for a while, or so I'm told." He held his hand in front of his body and concentrated. The air shimmered again and Anders could feel the wild magic in the air as Harrison drained her.

Lucy squealed angrily. "Damn you and your meddling, Anders!" She crawled across the bed and reached for her lyrium necklace. Anders saw her going for it and got to it first.

"No lyrium, Lucy." He clutched the necklace in his hand and sent a meaningful look at Harrison. "We need the collar."

Harrison looked about to protest but Anders set his jaw and pointed to the templar's head. "Right, I owe you." He pulled a torque out of his pocket and looked at it then looked at Lucy. "You should put this on, I think." He said it tentatively, not wishing to offend her. "It will keep your mana from coming back. Just wear it for a little while. I think, perhaps, you'll feel better if you do."

He reached out his hand to her. "You have a son, don't you? I bet he would like to see his mamma feeling better."

Lucy looked up from the torque in the templar's hand to his kind, patient face. Anders marveled at Harrison's skill. Somehow he was getting through to her. His voice was even and pleasant, his manner was nice. "All right," she said. She held still as the templar snapped the torque around her neck.

"I'll leave it unlocked," he said. "You can take it off any time, but please don't." The templar put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "You need to get well for that boy of yours, Miss… er, I mean, Warden-Commander."

She just stared at the templar then turned to Anders. "All right. I've done as you've asked. Now, please, go. Let me sleep. Tell Nathaniel he's in charge."

"Lucy…" Anders started to object, but Harrison put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your commander gave an order, Anders, you should follow it." He pushed the Anders toward the door and they both left her alone and walked down the hallway.

Worry painted Anders' face. "She can't be left like this. She needs to get up, otherwise she might…" He trailed off. He had seen people stop wanting to live and what happened to them.

Harrison's jaw firmed and he nodded, feeling at least somewhat responsible for the Commander's condition. "Right. Let her have a few hours, then I think you might need to try sterner measures. A bath might make her feel better, don't you think?"

His brow furrowing, Anders wondered how he would get her into a bath tub if she didn't want a bath. And, if he did it, would she ever forgive him? He pushed that thought aside. It didn't matter whether she forgave him or not, she needed to snap out of this and the sooner it happened, the better.

**Zevran**

Ignacio poured Zevran another drink. "It's time to rethink your strategy, paesano. You've done well. I've assimilated Armand's cell, what was left of it, and Armand is finito. I have taken over the contracts he left behind, and acquired a couple of his very best assassins who you didn't manage to kill. But there is still the matter of broken omertà. You are pentito, and even more of a threat since Armand and Bernardo have both failed to kill you." He poured himself a slug of the fine brandy and gulped it down. "The pressure is on me now, mi amico. Your name is on the lips of every Crow in Antiva, followed by the phrase 'must die'."

Zevran played idly with the edge of his blade. One wrong move from Ignacio and it would be buried in his chest. "Then it is time to be bold, no? I have nothing to lose. I would prefer to live, but I cannot go home until this is resolved. If I cannot go home, then perhaps it would be best to die trying."

Even though his cold gaze gave nothing away, Zevran knew what Ignacio was thinking: Zevran was the very worst sort of enemy, the kind with nothing to lose. So far Ignacio had been nothing but helpful, setting up caches of weapons, money, disguises and information for the rogue Crow, but Ignacio might succumb to pressure, or he, Zevran, might outlive his usefulness.

"There's a big flaw in your strategy, Zevran. You came here to protect your woman and bambino, no? It isn't going to work. Already there was another contract on her."

Zevran tensed and leaned forward. "Merda! What idiota is accepting contracts on Grey Wardens?"

Ignacio held up a hand. "There's always someone with more greed than brains. This time it was Gennaro. The patronessa was captured and the operatives didn't receive their payment. They went home. Your woman and child are fine."

Zevran relaxed imperceptibly. Was she really fine, though? What was going on in Amaranthine that someone was trying to assassinate her again? He wished he could get word to her and even more importantly hear something back. He worried about her. Only he knew how fragile she had been after Riordan died. Then when he left, he knew it would have been a blow to her.

"You were right, though, paesano. You have to die," Ignacio said casually, keeping his eyes on Zevran.

Zevran was coiled like a spring, ready to move, but he doubted he needed to. "What are you about, Ignacio? If our partnership is over, I don't expect you would announce it. You would have already tried to kill me."

"And succeeded, of course. Listen to me, figlio, the masters are going to go after your woman and child again. They need to take care of you once and for all, and if they have to go to the expense of kidnapping your family, they will do that. They're not going to wait until another master falls, they're going to act and soon."

"Vaffanculo!" Zevran was overwhelmed with frustration. He'd come to midst of the Antivan Crows so they'd leave his family alone, but he'd been too successful in throwing down his old cell. Now they'd go after his family anyway. There was only one thing he could do… give up. He knew it might come to this; even so, he wasn't ready to die. He wanted to see her, to say goodbye, to kiss those sensual lips one last time. He wanted to hold his son just once…

"You give up so easily, Zevran?" Ignacio must have read his body language, however subtle it was. Ignacio leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I have a plan, of course. Don't be so eager to get yourself killed, paesano." He shook his head and tsked. "A woman as beautiful as your Lucia, I should think you'd do anything to return to her. You don't deserve her."

If he didn't look so amused, Zevran would have slugged him. "All right, Ignacio, you weasel. What's your plan?"

"You remember Donato? He is one of Gennaro's boys."

Zevran rubbed his chin. "Donato, Donato…" He shook his head. "It doesn't ring a bell."

"Good, then you won't mind so much if he dies. He is you, if you were human. If he were badly burnt, maybe just the hair and tattoos remaining intact, it could be you." Ignacio laughed and rubbed his hands together.

"Does this Donato have my tattoos?" Zevran asked. "Not many men have the tatuaggio on their cazzo."

"Ah yes, Zevran's famous cazzo. If anything would identify a corpse as yours, it would be your cazzo." Ignacio laughed. "Even I have heard about it. Is no matter, a man does not mind a tattoo on his cazzo once he is dead."

Zevran began to relax. "So, we fake my death. Then what?"

"You become someone else. I take on a new apprentice from Rivain." Ignacio stared at him. "You'll cut your hair short. I don't suppose you'll let me fix your ears?"

Zevran shook his head.

"Very well, you'll need to have those tattoos on your face removed. I know an apostate who can make an amulet that will change your appearance a little. How is your Rivaini?"

Zevran waggled his hand. "Mi rivaini no es malo."

"Problem is your face is too pretty." Ignacio broke out into a huge grin. "Perhaps it would be best to disguise you as a woman. They wouldn't expect that."

"They won't be expecting my tattooed cazzo either, if they reach under my skirt."

"You'll just have to keep your skirt down, amico. You won't be the first uomo-donna in the Crows. Maybe the first with a tattoo on his prick, though." Ignacio laughed. "You and I will take down each cell, one by one, until we're at the top."

Zevran helped himself to Ignacio's brandy. "You're crazy, we're both going to die." He smiled at Ignacio and they clinked their glasses together. "To a glorious death."

Ignacio drank with the elf. "Indeed." He cleared his throat. "There is just one thing, Zevran."

Zevran looked up, wondering what outrageous price he'd have to pay for this generosity.

"Lucia has to think you're dead for this to work. I will have a letter and some token from you to deliver to her with the news. They watch her, amico. If she should think you are alive, they will take her and the baby to draw you out."

Zevran's smile faded. "Can't you tell her it isn't true?" Lucia would be devastated. Who would she turn to if he were dead? Would he be able to come back to her and resume where they left off? The thought was an arrow through his heart. He had no choice. It was something he would have to risk.

Ignacio shook his head. "Your woman has no face for bluffing. She's as easy to read as a child's book."

Zevran sighed and leaned back in his chair. Ignacio was utterly right. She wore her emotions openly; it was a terrible habit and one he loved dearly. He wanted this over, but it seemed that it would drag on for many more months.

"A toast, mio amico!" Ignacio rose and held out his glass. "May those who love us, love us. And those who don't love us, may the Maker turn their hearts. And if he can't turn their hearts, may we turn our daggers in their hearts."

Zevran smiled. He would never completely trust Ignacio, but their relationship had evolved over the months they'd been working together. He rose and clinked his glass with Ignacio's and they both drank deeply.

"You'll need a new name, Zevran. Is there one in particular you want?"

He mused for a moment. Lucia would be too obvious, as would any name similar to his own. "Daniella, after my son and my fallen friend, Riordan."

Ignacio pursed his lips. "I like it. Daniella, the Rivaini." Ignacio finished his drink and sat down. "Tell me… Daniella, when this is over, Maker willing, what will you and Lucia do?"

Zevran barked out a short, cynical laugh. "Ah, that is a very good question. This is no small task we have ahead of this. She's going to think I'm dead. Maybe she'll marry Teyrn Loghain, or someone else."

Ignacio shook his head, commiserating with the former Crow. "In your dreams, what would you and the lovely Warden do?"

Zevran leaned back in his chair, his eyes half-closing, relaxing as much as he could around a Crow. "She would leave the Grey Wardens. We would go back to Denerim where her friends are. She could work at her inventions, perhaps I could do some work for the crown. We'd have another child or two." He fully closed his eyes, reliving a daydream in one of its many incarnations. "A very large, soft bed comes to mind, when I think on the subject. If she doesn't already have one of those, I will buy it for her."

Ignacio's hum broke Zevran out of his reverie. "I've been meaning to ask, mio amico… What they say about the Grey Wardens, is it true? Even the female Grey Wardens?"

Zevran's eyes widened. It never failed to disturbed him when Ignacio expressed admiration toward Lucia. It was like finding out your father had sexual thoughts about your girlfriend. "I don't wish to brag, but even I find it a challenge to match her appetites." He mashed down his discomfort and impulse to skewer Ignacio for even expressing the thought.

"I always said you were a lucky man, Zevran. Lucky to survive the Blight, lucky to find such a woman, now your luck will help you and me climb to the top of the Crows. Then you will return to Ferelden and your family. Do not give up that dream so easily, figlio."

It was a long-shot, but so was surviving the Blight or even that ambush of the Grey Wardens. He was lucky Lucy had spared his life, that she and Riordan had lost that card game in Orzammar. A half-smile curled his mouth as he remembered. Ignacio was right, he was lucky. Perhaps that luck would hold out. He felt the pessimism that had been plaguing him since he had arrived back in Antiva finally dissipate.

**Nathaniel**

The daylight was fading, but Nathaniel was still practicing archery when Anders found him. He watched him fire a few more shots and applauded when Nathaniel drove three arrows rapidly, one after another, right into the center of the target.

Nathaniel turned to look at the mage and smiled at him. He walked to the target and reclaimed the arrows. "How's the Commander doing?" He tossed the question over his shoulder as he pulled out the arrows.

"Not so good," Anders admitted. His face was serious. "She's put you in charge."

Nathaniel stopped pulling out arrows and turned around abruptly. "What?" His brows furrowed.

The mage shrugged. "She refuses to get out of bed and told me to tell you that you are in charge now."

"Maker's…" he started to say. "What's wrong with her that she can't resume her duties? I thought you healed her?"

"Physically, nothing. Well, other than the fact that she hasn't eaten much of anything for the better part of a week, or gotten out of bed. I think she's punishing herself for what happened, trusting the wrong person, not that she'll talk to me about it. She isn't even spending any time with her son."

Nathaniel's nostrils flared as his anger grew. He pulled off his gloves angrily. "Oh that's just wonderful! She not only neglects her duties as commander but her duties as a mother, too." His fury was growing at the thought. Of all the things he disliked about Lucy, the way she and her son interacted was one thing he admired. How dare she neglect that little boy, especially after they had worked so hard to keep him from being an orphan. He paced back and forth thinking about it and getting even angrier.

"This cannot stand!" He slapped his gloves into his hand and unstrung his bow. He turned and started to stride inside.

Anders shot out a hand and grasped his arm. "What're you going to do?"

"I'm going to get her out of bed!" He was nearly shouting, not entirely sure why he was so angry. Once he would have been satisfied to have her out of the way and be running things himself. Now though, he'd committed himself to supporting her and she would damn well prove herself worthy of that commitment.

The mage looked surprised at his fury but didn't seem too likely to protest. "Get her to eat something and take a bath… not in that order."

Nathaniel nodded shortly. "She'll take a bath if I have to stick her in the tub and scrub her down myself."

Anders looked a little taken aback at that. "Perhaps I'll come with you. I am her physician, after all. It wouldn't be seemly if…"

Nathaniel glared at him. "Seemly? Since when have you cared what's seemly? The woman will bathe and eat. I don't particularly care how it happens or whether it is _seemly_." He strode into the keep and barked orders at the nearest servant. "A bath to the commander's quarters, immediately. No hot water in it."

A timid servant mumbled a reply. "My lord, she was quite adamant that she mustn't be disturbed the last time we went up."

"I don't care. You'll take water up there now!"

He strode to the kitchen. "I want a full Warden meal for the Commander immediately."

"My lord, she's refused every meal we've taken up there." A frightened kitchen servant said, suddenly reminded of Arl Howe in one of his tempers.

Anders was impressed by how quickly she leaped to prepare the meal simply by the glare Nathaniel gave the balky servant. Howe turned his glare on Anders next. "You're with me. If she gives me any trouble you're going to paralyze her and we'll stick her in the tub."

"Maker… she's going to kill you," Anders said softly. "And then me…"

Nathaniel's lips twisted into a half-smile. "If she can work up the gumption for that, she's welcome to try."

"Hmmm… good point," Anders said.

Nathaniel's face went back to completely furious. "Let's go."

The pair ran up the stairs. Nate's feet thundered on the wooden stairs. He slammed open her sitting room door. It hit the wall knocking some plaster loose. Then he did the same with the bedroom door. She hadn't even bothered to lock it, he noted.

"You're getting up _now_, Warden-Commander. I am _not _taking over for you while you laze about in bed." He stood at the foot of her bed, his face a furious mask, hands on his hips.

If she was even in her bed, he couldn't see her. There was just a fetal shaped lump underneath the layers of blankets and down-filled comforters. There was no reaction from the lump at their noisy intrusion into the quiet bedroom.

Nathaniel glanced at Anders who shrugged in response. Servants started coming in, dumping water into the tub.

"Commander, you have until the tub is full to get up. If you're not up, we're going to get you up." Nathaniel's voice was stern. The servants all hurried out of the room afraid to incur his wrath.

Still no movement from the lump.

"Did she spell herself asleep again?" Nathaniel asked Anders quietly.

The mage walked to the side of the bed and pulled back the covers. Lucy was sound asleep, curled up on her side, and the anti-magic collar was still around her neck. He shook his head. "Lucy?" The mage shook her gently.

Lucy stirred to the touch, cringing away and pulling her covers back up again. "Lemme alone," she murmured.

"You are getting up now, Commander," Nathaniel said sternly. "You are going to take a bath, and then you are going to eat."

There was a faint protest from under the blankets. Nathaniel remembered she probably hadn't eaten in a week; she was quite likely to be weak and not difficult to man-handle into the tub.

The servants dumped the last of the cold water in the tub and left. Another pair of servants brought in a tray laden with food and set it up on a table in her room. They left in a hurry too, realizing that something unpleasant was about to happen.

"One last chance. Get up and get into the bathtub now, or get put in it." Nathaniel's voice brooked no argument, yet Lucy argued with him.

"Go away. That's an order," she said. Her voice was muffled under the blankets.

"Oh ho! I don't think so. You turned over command to me and now I'm commanding you to get out of bed and get into that tub," Nathaniel's voice was implacably hard.

"After a short nap, perhaps," Lucy bargained, yawning.

"Absolutely not!" Nathaniel's patience was at an end. He strode over to the bed and ripped the blankets and comforters off and threw them on the floor. Lucy lay on the bed, coiled up on her side. Her arms were thinner than normal and her cheek bones were more prominent than they should be. She looked like a little girl wearing a too large nightgown.

"Last chance, Commander. Get up and into the tub or I will put you in!"

Anders cleared his throat and shifted around somewhere behind him, his nervousness obviously growing.

"Time's up! Into the tub you go." He grabbed Lucy's arm and pulled her to the edge of the bed. She fought him weakly, but she had none of her former strength. He ignored her protests and picked her up, cradling her like a child, walked into the bathing room, and set her into the tub none too gently, nightgown and all.

"Aaaaaagh!" Lucy shrieked. "Nathaniel, dammit! It's cold!" She was looking angry now, sitting in the midst of the tub, her nightgown getting soaking in the cold water. She clutched her arms around her to warm up.

"Wash, Lucy. Or do I have to do that for you too?" He glowered at her, his temper flaring. _Maker help him, he would, no matter how embarrassing it would be for them both._

"Get… out!" she growled at him. "At least give me some privacy. Jesus Christ almighty, Howe, you're a dead man! You too, Anders! I'm going to keel haul you both for… for… mutiny or insubordination… or for being stupid fucktards!"

He suppressed a grin and left the bathroom. There was a satisfying, but perplexing barrage of curses about people he'd never heard of and slurs on his parentage, but he also heard the sound of a wet nightgown being thrown and slurping noisily against a wall, then frantic washing sounds.

"Fucktard?" Nate said quietly to Anders. "What's a fucktard?"

Anders shrugged. "Something from her world, I think. It didn't sound very flattering."

"Hurry up, Lucy. There's some nice hot tea waiting out here." Nathaniel taunted her.

"Ooooooh! I swear to god, Howe, I should have let Varel hang you because I am going to do it myself!"

There was more splashing and then the sound of feet on wet tiles. Lucy came out of the bathroom with a towel around her hair and another wrapped around her body. She scurried over to the fireplace and knelt in front of it, teeth chattering, glaring angrily at the two men.

"You two idiots, get out!" she growled at them. "Just get the hell out of here!"

Nathaniel turned to Anders and nodded. "I'll be back in a while, Commander. We need to have a chat."

Lucy angrily unfastened the anti-magic collar from around her neck and flung it at them. "You can give that back to Harrison."

Anders picked it up and the two men left Lucy alone in her bedroom. Pulling the door shut, Nathaniel heard a crash and tinkling sound against the door. Lucy had thrown something. He grinned at the worried-looking mage. "I'd say that went well," he said quietly as they walked down the hallway.

~o~o~o~

Nathaniel wasn't entirely sure what would happen when he knocked on her door an hour later, but he was damned if he was going to let her go back to bed. The door crashed open and Lucy stood before him, fully dressed in a gown with a shawl wrapped tightly around her, hair neatly braided. He looked past her and saw the tray of food had been mostly eaten. Her face looked like a thundercloud, but he saw something else there: worry.

"Come in, Howe." She gestured him into the sitting area. "I suppose we need to have this out." She poured a brandy for both of them and handed him one. "First off, I apologize and admit that everything was my fault, completely and utterly. Like an idiot, I trusted the wrong person…"

Nathaniel raised his hand. "Stop. There's no need to apologize for that to me. Perhaps you do trust too easily, but I have certainly benefitted from that trait. As far as trusting the wrong person, I only have to look to my father for an example. I trusted… that man… to have his family's best interests at heart."

Lucy drew a deep, tremulous breath and shook her head. "I almost got us both killed. I…"

Nathaniel shrugged. "The situation had its dangers. We could have been more careful, but you were right, if we had too many people there we might have tipped off Bann Esmerelle." He sipped from his brandy. "There is someone you should apologize to, however: Your son." Nathaniel cleared his throat. "You don't have the luxury of lying around for a week and ignoring that boy. You need to keep it together for him, if for no one else."

Lucy's looked down at the floor, the corner of her mouth twitched. "I just felt like a complete and utter fuck-up, like my son doesn't deserve such an idiot for a mother. I don't trust myself as a mother or anything else really."

Nathaniel's heart went out to her; he'd never seen her look so vulnerable. She had been his prey, his adversary, his Commander; now she was just a woman, one with flaws and vulnerabilities. The realization unsettled him, in part because he had once considered betraying her, or killing her, himself. His own parents had never displayed any sort of self-doubt over their parenting skills or the way they behaved, something they probably would have benefited from.

"I won't take over command from you, Lucy, but I'll be happy to help out however I can for as long as you need me to," Nathaniel offered.

Lucy looked up from the spot on the floor at him. "You don't want command? I thought you would."

He shrugged. "I think you need to resume it. Show the rebellious nobles that they didn't get the better of you – of us, the Grey Wardens. Prove it to your… Elissa's brother, to everyone else that would love to see you defeated."

"You're right," she said, taking a deep breath. "I need to prove it to Wolf, too, that his betrayal didn't destroy me."

He held his tongue. Anders had warned him not to tell her that Wolf was dead. They'd been good friends, the mage said. She was soft-hearted, and probably would have just exiled him since she didn't believe in capital punishment except for the very worst offenders. Nathaniel had an entirely different idea of justice and Anders agreed with him. What Wolf had done, if he had succeeded, would have been the end of Lucy. The Chantry would have learned of her odd circumstances and decided there was only one way to deal with it. Wolf had to die, he knew too much. There was one other person from that incident that knew too much now… Harrison.

"Commander, there is something you need to consider: Harrison now knows you're a mage, it might be dangerous to allow him to return to the Chantry."

Lucy's mouth dropped open. "Surely you're not suggesting…"

"Conscript him."

"Oh, that. I thought you meant something else." She frowned. "I will talk to him first. Sooner or later I think it will come out that Elissa Cousland is a mage, hopefully not that Elissa Cousland is not herself. Harrison doesn't know that, does he?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "I don't think anyone revealed that."

"Well, then, we shall see." Lucy stood and extended a hand to Nathaniel. "Thanks, Nate. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

He stood and took her proffered hand. "My pleasure, Commander. If I might suggest, you've been neglecting your own combat training awhile. Perhaps you should spar with me daily. I think Anders has plans for some magical training as well." Nathaniel and Anders had discussed keeping her busy so she wouldn't have time for regrets.

Lucy smiled. "That sounds fine."

He gave her a quick smile and left. _Nate,_ she had called him, and he hadn't even bristled. He wasn't quite sure he was ready for such familiarities yet, but it hadn't irritated him like it had before. Well… whatever. He certainly wouldn't be going easy with her and her training. She was relying on magic too much and she'd had a taste of what combat was like without it. It could easily happen again.

_I forgot to ask her about fucktards,_ he thought. It sounded like a really malignant imprecation, one he might like to add to his own vocabulary. _Ah well, I can ask her tomorrow._

**Zevran**

Donato met a quiet death, alone in a dark alley, one that left him intact. Imbued with lyrium and magic by an apostate, his corpse wouldn't decay quickly in the warm Antivan climate. Zevran noted that Ignacio was right, corpses don't mind having tattoos on their privates, or their ears reshaped to points. A talented apostate even cast a glamour on the corpse so that the resemblance to Zevran was uncanny.

"It is you, is it not?" Ignacio commented. "You rest so peacefully, amico. I will almost believe what I shall have to tell your woman."

It took another cup of brandy to quiet his nerves. "Tomorrow then, I die and Daniella is born."

Ignacio nodded. "I predict this Ravaini woman will rise quickly through the ranks." He raised his glass to the elf and drank deeply.

It took a lot of will to keep from drinking enough to forget that Lucia would soon think him dead. He feared he would eventually return to Ferelden and find she loved someone else or was, perhaps, married. Better he were dead than to return to that. Still, there was always hope that he would be reunited with his Warden and the child he claimed as his own. _Remember me, Lucia,_ he prayed. He pushed the bottle away. He would need all his faculties and strength on the morrow.

It all happened as planned. Zevran, the pentito, was chased into an alley where traps were awaiting him. The explosions and flames drove back the Crows following him, but luck was with them. They found the charred remains of the elf, identified by his flamboyant tattoos and pointed ears. Ignacio got the credit for setting the trap that lead to his death. He stripped the corpse of a Grey Warden amulet, more proof of the Crow's identity.

"He was one of the best," Ignacio said later when the Crow masters assembled, his voice tinged with regret. "Too bad he had to die, eh?"

The other masters toasted the talented elf and said a small Crow benediction, giving him a respectful send-off, but then spit on his pyre. He had died for breaking omertà, after all, and was lucky to even get such recognition. In the end, Zevran Araini had left the Crows as they all do, through the smoke of a funerary pyre.

_~o~o~o~_

Removing a tattoo was a painful procedure requiring a skilled medic and healer. The skin needed to be cut away and only the most talented healer could do it without leaving a disfiguring scar. Fortunately Ignacio hired the best and Zevran's face was perfectly smooth when he woke up from the sleep spell.

A little more work and Zevran had black hair down to the middle of his back. He put on an amulet given to him by an apostate and his features softened and became more distinctly feminine. His skin became duskier, less golden, his eyes: black. He admired himself in a mirror, rather enjoying the change.

"I could fall in love," he said, his voice even sounding different, a little higher, with a musical lilt.

The apostate laughed. "Yes, well, don't lose the amulet or you'll lose your girlfriend in the mirror there." He gazed at Zevran, admiring his work. "I have to admit, I really did out-do myself. Are you busy tonight?"

Zevran… no, Daniella, he reminded himself, laughed a lovely contralto. "I'm afraid I'm spoken for."

"Pity," the apostate said. "Remember, the amulet is only a glamour. If someone becomes suspicious, they might see through it. It works best layered on top of a similar appearance. Keep your hair dyed, your skin smooth and dark, try to make your voice feminine. That will make it much harder to see through the spell."

"Thank you, my friend," Daniella said, wondering how long the apostate would live given what he knew about his client. Ignacio probably wouldn't leave a loose-end like that. A shame, the man was very talented.

Zevran left the apostate's home and walked openly through the streets of Antiva City for the first time since he had arrived nearly six months ago. A free man, or woman, rather, at last.

~o~o~o~

**Notes: **

_**Reviewers are teh awesome!** Beta-readers are teh awesome, too, especially when they turn around a chappy as quickly as Biff did and find so many weirdnessess! Thanks Biff! Friends are awesome too, thanks Zevgirl and Biff for your support and chuckles._**  
><strong>

_I modeled the Antivan Crows off the Sicilian Mafia. Omertà is the code of honor, keeping silent about things seen or done. Obviously if you break the code, you will run afoul of the mafia. One who does is called a pentito. It doesn't exactly fit Zevran's case, but I liked the similarities so I borrowed it._

_A glamour is a spell that makes something appear different than it really is._

"_Don't smite me, bro!" is a reference to a viral video, then song, about a guy who caused an uproar at a political gathering and was tased for his efforts._

_**Translations - **Provided by Google Translate  
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_Figlio: Son_

_Vaffanculo: Fuck it, or fuck you._

_Cazzo: Prick_

_Uomo-donna: Man/woman – transvestite (my own invented translation)_

tatuaggio: Tattoo

_Ignacio's toast was stolen from the Irish and twisted to meet my needs._

_Translation courtesy of Google. _


	12. The Importance of Warden Secrets

**Lucy**

A week had elapsed since Nathaniel plunged me into cold water to bring me back to my senses. It worked. I went through it all: anger, regret, shame, and now I was trying to restore my fractured ego. I think Wolf would have won a very high place of honor in the Painful Breakups Hall of Fame. Sell your ex-girlfriend to the highest bidder, then shoot her in the leg with a crossbow. What a great guy. My hand reached back and felt for the scar. Maybe I would have Anders cut the scar out and re-heal the skin. It wasn't vanity; I wanted to erase the memory.

Varel and Garevel had rounded up the list of people involved in the conspiracy and there were quite a few cells in Howe's dungeon filled with them. I'd have to figure out what to do with them. I sat down with the other Wardens and Varel and we brainstormed.

"You do have the right of high justice, Commander," Varel informed me. "A quick trial and then you can hang them all if you like."

I sighed and wished myself back in bed. "That isn't justice by my book. It's retribution."

Justice - speak of the spook - looked at me. "What is unjust in it? They would have killed you if they could have. Surely death is a fitting penalty?"

"Oh Justice, Justice, Justice… you're a rather primitive embodiment of said attribute, aren't you? On my world…"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and Oghren mumbled something.

I cleared my throat and continued. "On my world, judges are supposed to be impartial. In my case, I should recuse myself from the trial. I could be a plaintiff and tell my side of the events, but I'm too close to the issue to be the judge."

Justice looked intrigued. "But what if the other side should lie about the events?"

"One has to present evidence and eye-witnesses. We've got plenty of both. The only thing we don't have is an impartial judge and a jury."

"What about sending the lot of them to Denerim to be judged by the king and queen?" Varel suggested.

"Who happen to be my close friends…" I sighed deeply. "No, I don't really see a good way around it. I think I will have to be the judge."

We scheduled a court date for a couple of weeks. I had Varel inform the prisoners and ensured they were well taken care of. They would be allowed to call witnesses of their own at the trial. I gave them the resources to work on their defenses.

_~o~o~o~_

Howe was at me every day to spar and train. The first few days were terrible. I think Marigold could have pinned me with one paw. I started doing some weight training with the big urns that milk and cream was delivered in. I did push-ups and tried to do a pull-up but couldn't. Holy schleets! I'd lost a lot of muscle in my week of self-induced coma. Fortunately I was young and Grey Wardens are rather talented at healing and regenerating. By the end of the week I was doing much better.

Anders and I finally made the time to work together on cross-training one another in magic. He learned everything I knew about creating magical orbs. His eyes would glow as he considered the possibilities. I was a little afraid I might be encouraging his ideas of fomenting a mage rebellion. I didn't think it was a bad thing, the mages needed to be free, but I didn't want Anders to risk himself.

That brought me to an uncomfortable thought; working with Anders right now was particularly difficult. I felt a desperate need for a friend, a confidant, someone I could spill my heart to. Ever since that night we'd spent together, chaste as it was - in deed, if not in thought - I hadn't seen him with any of the women who sought out his company. Any time they came around they seemed to depart quickly with unhappy expressions. Whenever our eyes met, I could see a question in his. The dream we had shared, that I had denied, haunted him.

I hadn't forgotten it either but I had learned my lesson with Wolf. I wasn't going to let my hormones override my judgment again. Not that I had any sexual inclinations at the moment; my recent experiences seemed to have shut off the happy juice. But I so desperately wanted a friend, a pal, a buddy I could trust… I wanted Anders to be that person for me, but I couldn't do it to him; it might encourage his feelings, so I kept him at an arm's length.

He began to train me in some of the finer points of healing and I taught him some of the forbidden apostate magics I'd learned from Morrigan. He was delighted with shape-changing and was working on learning the crow form. Of all the forms I'd learned, crow had been the most useful. I was amazed at how quickly he picked things up. Of course, he'd been studying magic all his life. It was second-nature to him. I had to work much harder.

We spent a few hours a day in the courtyard outside the keep healing anyone who needed it. He did that whenever we were at the keep anyway, but now he insisted I try to diagnose problems. Broken things, bones and wounds, were easy for me, but curing something like a venereal disease or common cold was beyond me. Due to my status as a closeted mage, I had to be very careful about using healing magic openly. Detecting diseases could be done without any obvious signs of magic use, so that's the skill we worked on together.

**Nathaniel**

Iveta, Daniel's nurse, took the week off to visit family and Lucy spent much of the week minding the child herself. There were plenty of servants around when she was too busy, but she seemed loathe to be parted from him so she toted the boy in a sling-like contraption strapped to her front. He'd seen some of the peasant women do similar things, but the babies were usually on their backs. Daniel loved it. He liked seeing all the activity and being bounced around with his mother's movements.

Lucy was trying to eat her dinner, but the baby was grabbing at her food, her hair, sometimes squishing food into her hair and on her clothes. She wasn't getting much into her mouth. Nathaniel took pity on her. He had finished his dinner and was just drinking ale now. "Want me to take Daniel while you finish eating, Commander?" he offered. She needed to get her strength back. Her training had been progressing painfully slowly due to her weakness.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Sure! Daniel makes eating a challenge at times." She unslung him off her front and handed the baby and sling to Nathaniel.

"Let's get you out of there, my lad." Nathaniel pulled him out of the sling and sat him on his lap so the baby was facing him. Daniel stared at him, fascinated by his hair, his face, by everything. Then he burped noisily. "Get it out." Nathaniel said, smiling at the babe.

Daniel gurgled happily and waved his little arms around. His blue eyes latched onto Nathaniel's and he smiled when the Warden made a silly face. Then his hands clutched at the wind braids and pulled. "Ouch, Daniel. Nate likes his hair where it is: Attached to his head." He pried the tiny fists off his braids and tucked them behind his ears, getting them out of the way.

One of the serving girls came out of the kitchen and saw Nathaniel with the child and she stood watching them. Lucy turned to look at the servant girl watching Nathaniel.

"Men with babies are chick magnets, you know." Lucy winked at him and took another large bite of stew.

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Chick magnets? Please explain."

"They draw women to them. It's… you know… sexy." She tilted her head toward the serving girl. "See? Mary Ann thinks you're hot."

He looked over at the serving girl and she smiled at him.

"She'd totally do you," Lucy whispered.

Nathaniel wasn't sure what Lucy was trying to say. It was one of those cases where he thought further clarification might lead to embarrassment so he refrained from asking. "What color do you think Daniel's eyes will be?" he asked, deftly changing the subject.

"Ah, good question. It's possible they might stay blue, but Riordan's eyes were green. I hope he gets Riordan's eyes. I'm not sure what traits the Cousland's have. I think Fergus has dark eyes like mine, but I never paid much attention since he's usually yelling at me."

Nathaniel snorted, amused by her assessment of Fergus. "He was always a bit of twit. Quite sulky that Elissa was the heir. I'm surprised he doesn't worship at your feet for getting rid of that problem for him."

Lucy looked up from her meal in surprise. "So, you didn't care for the Cousland siblings?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "I only met them a few times before my father sent me to the Free Marches to squire. I found them to be pretentious. Father wanted to marry Thomas to Elissa, but she really hated him. Fergus and Delilah never hit it off either." He chuckled when Daniel swung a fist and hit him in the chin. "Ow!" He feigned pain and fear. "You've got a powerful punch, Daniel."

Lucy chuckled and nodded. "I got the notion she might be that way from reading her diary."

Nathaniel wondered how differently things would have gone if Lucy hadn't been stuck in Elissa's body and it was Elissa in charge of the keep. Somehow he doubted Elissa would have spared his life. "I'm not altogether unhappy with the witch's meddling," he admitted.

Lucy flashed a smile at him while chewing.

"Lessor of two evils, I suppose." Nathaniel smirked at Daniel.

Lucy swallowed. "You flay me with your compliments." She turned back to her meal but watched Nathaniel out of the corner of her eye. "You are good with children. Do you ever want to settle down and have a family?"

He played with the babe and thought about the question. "I did. I thought someday I'd be running a bannorn of my own, if not my father's arling, and I'd do all the expected things. But the worm has turned, hasn't it?"

"Maybe not as far as you think, Nate," she said thoughtfully. "We both know I'm not cut out for this. I'd like to over some of my duties to you. Perhaps in time, I will turn over running the arling to you, entirely. However, there are democratic reforms I'm keen to…"

He looked up at her, startled. "Are you saying you want _me_ to be your second?"

She wiped her mouth off and set down the napkin. "Yes. That shouldn't be so surprising, you've actually got experience with this sort of thing, unlike the rest of us."

"You're not just doing this so you can go back to bed, are you?" He was truly surprised by her offer, and not a little suspicious.

She frowned at him. "No. Well, truthfully, I may leave the Wardens someday, although please keep that to yourself, and I'd like to know there's someone capable in charge."

He still eyed her suspiciously. "So, you'll listen to my opinions, even if you don't like them? You'll let me challenge your authority and keep you on your toes?"

She nodded. "Yes, of course, but let's display cohesion in public."

"Of course," he said. He wasn't an idiot. He'd been trained not to openly question superior officers unless invited to, and then only in private. "I do reserve the right to dump you into cold water any time you decide to retreat from your responsibilities again."

She sloshed the dregs of her wine around in her cup and snorted. "All right, I'll grant you that responsibility." She stared at the cup for a few moments, looking like she was carefully picking over her words. "I suppose I should thank you for that. I guess I have a lot to thank you for, actually. Saving my life when Wolf…" She stopped speaking abruptly and glared at her cup.

The pain she experienced when she thought back to the incident was obvious. It was ridiculous that she was thanking him, he thought. A vision of her standing in between him and Fergus flashed through his mind, followed by one of the day she released him from the dungeon and faced down everyone who said he should be executed. Nathaniel almost liked her for a moment.

"I'd say the score is pretty even." He bounced Daniel on his knee a few times and the baby responded with a gurgling laugh. "Ready for your son?" If anything could cheer her up, it was this affable baby.

She looked over at her son. "Always." She held out her arms and took him. Her face relaxed and she smiled at her son. "You like Nate-y, don't you? He's not nearly as grumpy as he looks, is he?"

Nathaniel chuckled. "If you'll excuse me." He stood up and walked over to speak to Mary Ann, who had found some tasks in the dining hall to occupy her. Perhaps Lucy was right; the worm hadn't gone too far off course.

**Anders**

To be so close to her and yet unable to say anything, was going to drive him mad. She had withdrawn. She no longer confided in him or had that easy, friendly manner with him, and he felt its loss keenly. He had been so certain the time was right to speak to her, confront her about their feelings for each other, but Wolf had ruined everything with his betrayal.

Anders felt cheated by fate. He sent a lightning bolt into the fireplace in his room in a rare display of temper. "By the Maker's hairy ass, Marigold! I only wish he were alive so I could melt his face off."

Marigold, not a fan of lightning bolts, hid under the bed.

"Oh kitty, I'm sorry." He calmed himself so he wouldn't scare the kitten. He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the bed. "Come on out, sweetheart. I won't do loud, bang-bang magics anymore. Come on, you-you, come to daddy." He shot a line of sparkles out of his finger and the kitten immediately dashed for them, trying to catch them before they winked out. He snatched her up and held her close to his chest.

Anders settled into a chair with the kitten, "Navigating the Fade", and a glass of brandy. He absentmindedly made sparkles for the kitten while reading. Chapter ten was an absorbing chapter on how to find someone in the Fade. He had met other mages in the Fade, but entirely by accident, and only when they went purposefully to the Fade, not through dreaming. This book suggested that one could find dreamers. Certainly he and Lucy had met up while dreaming, and in their dream they'd become aware of each other, so he knew it could be done – but it seemed a happy accident; to do it purposefully was another matter.

He reviewed the steps again and finished drinking the brandy. "Time to go to the Fade, Marigold." He placed the kitten in the soft bed that he'd had made for her, one she refused to use. She happily bounded out of it and jumped on his bed instead. Ah well, the kitten could watch over him while he navigated about the Fade. He swallowed a large dose of lyrium and felt his magic swell and surge. He laid down on the bed and put himself into the trance-like state that would allow him to enter the Fade.

~o~o~o~

The Fade was ready for him, it seemed. A desire demon was waiting. It was a terrible impersonation of Lucy. She was wearing a skimpy garment, like smallclothes made out of chainmail, and simpering at him.

"Ugh! You're not even close. Really, did you flunk out of Demoning 101? You're terrible! Just awful," he said, his lip curling in disgust.

The demon gave up her impersonation and changed back to her normal form. "Oh behold the brilliant mage! All kneel before the Maker's chosen one," she said sarcastically.

Anders raised his hand and began to cast a spell at her but she snapped her fingers and was gone. "Amateur!" he yelled after her. He cast a spell anyway. This one unspooled a golden thread of magic which he followed. It would lead him through the dreams of the humans around him, to the one he sought.

The dreams of others were pale shadows. Every now and then a demon cavorted through a dreamer's world and messed with them, but mostly they were ghostly shades that spoke in tinny voices. Luprous Grayson had described it well. When he reached Lucy's dreamscape the shades grew more corporeal, thanks to Grayson's spell. He paused for a moment on the edge of a forbidding tableau. Ahead of him the sky was blood red and he recognized Denerim from that one escape attempt where he'd nearly made it onto a ship before he was recaptured. He took a step into the dream and was suddenly transported to the top of a tower… Fort Drakon? Yes, it must be. Lucy stood on top of the fort looking frightened and lost. Tears were rolling down her face.

"Not this time. Not this time," she chanted. "Please, not this time." She stared up at the sky.

Anders looked up to see what she was seeing and the archdemon came into view. He wondered if this was how it had really happened, or if Lucy's mind was changing the events. There was a small figure on the back of the archdemon as he wheeled around a building, trying to dislodge the man on his back. He saw a flash of metal as the figure dug a blade into the dragon.

"No!" Lucy screamed. "Be careful, Danny!"

Alarm surged through Anders. This was how her husband died, wasn't it? She didn't need to relive this, not right now. He ran up to her. "Lucy! It isn't real, it's just dream."

She didn't seem to see or hear him. Grayson had warned that dreamers were hard to communicate with, but sometimes magic could penetrate through a dream. Anders touched her, casting a spell of calming magic on her. The archdemon faded from the sky and Lucy drew a gasping breath and let it out tremulously.

Then they were falling from a great height. Lucy was screaming as they plummeted to the earth. He reached out and touched her with magic again and the dream shifted: Darkspawn flowed like a river of corruption through an underground place. The archdemon flew through the massive chamber and Lucy watched, trembling. Suddenly she sneezed and the archdemon's eyes sought them out in their dark hiding spot. Again, Anders grasped Lucy and sent calming magic into her.

The disorienting shift happened again and he was on the roof of another tower, not Fort Drakon. There was a handsome young man with her, dressed in plate armor. They were battling an ogre and it fell before them, dead and bleeding.

"Finally! Something to feel good about. Good job, Lucy." Anders congratulated her, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. This must have been the first ogre she ever killed.

Lucy rushed over to a fire pit and lit a fire, muttering: "We're too late, Alistair! We must be too late." She watched the fire take hold and then a beacon, bouncing from reflecting mirrors, lit up the dark sky. She stood up and turned a worried expression toward the warrior. Then she wheeled around and stared as a dozen darkspawn ran into the chamber and the air was filled with arrows.

"Andraste's ass!" Anders swore. An arrow went right through him and into Lucy's arm, then another into her chest. He grasped her shoulder and pumped more magic into her again, trying to wrench her free from yet another terrifying dream.

The surroundings shifted again and he was inside a large building. A young blonde woman was walking quickly down a hallway that seemed endless. Her face was painted with anxiety. "Crap! I have a test I haven't studied for," she muttered and began to run. He ran after her, knowing it was Lucy in her other life. Suddenly a bell rang and doors opened and people spilled out of the classrooms. They froze, turning to stare at the young woman… she was now naked.

"Ahhh!" She screamed and clutched an armload of books to her chest and began to run.

Anders shook his head; she was having another anxiety dream. He wasn't surprised. Recent events hadn't been kind to her. He chased after her. She ducked into a broom closet and he followed her. Not surprisingly, she didn't notice him. He put a hand against her forehead and cast the same calming magic. This time he used more, enough to calm the pounding of her heart, which he could sense even through the Fade.

The landscape shifted again and she was walking through a meadow not far from the Vigil. She was alone this time. He ran to catch up with her.

"Lucy?"

Not responding, she sat down in the meadow and began to pick wild flowers, gently plucking them and gathering them in her hand. Then the plucking became less gentle and she began to rip them out of the meadow and tear them to pieces. Her expression changed to frustration and anger.

"Lucy?" Anders kept his tone calm. He put a hand on her arm and sent just a tiny amount of healing magic into her. She looked up and finally noticed him. Her hands were stained with the green blood of murdered wild flowers.

"Anders." She looked at her hands and wiped them on her white dress, leaving behind green stains. "Ugh, that'll never come out." She looked very agitated by the act of staining her dress, as if it were something of deep significance and repugnance.

He sat down next to her and took her hand in his own. "Relax, Lucy. I promise the stain will come out." He put his arm around her and tugged her so she was leaning against him. "Look at the clouds." He pointed at them. "That one looks like a…" he started to say, then he realized what it looked like and was embarrassed to say.

"A cock," she said, laughing. "A big, giant, fluffy, white cock."

He put a hand on her head and sent a swirl of gray and green magic into her. It was very relaxing stuff. She turned her head to look at him. "Thanks." She turned back to look at the sky again and pointed at another cloud. "That one looks like a Chinese crested dog."

Strangely enough, whatever she said the cloud looked like, it would reform and reshape itself into what she said. Perhaps it was a good thing for her to feel she had control over something, no matter how trivial. They spent the rest of her dream pointing at clouds and saying what they looked like, watching them transform, until the sun finally faded from the sky. She fell asleep in his lap, finally relaxed enough to pass into a calmer, quieter stage of sleep, without dreams.

Her timing was good, he was running low on mana and the lyrium had worn off. He kissed her on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Lucy."

He woke up in his room, on his bed, with Marigold nestled against his neck. He must have spent hours in the Fade with her, chasing her from one dream to the next. Unfortunately, it wasn't sleep for him and he would pay the price in the morning. He undressed and settled into bed, hoping Lucy's dreams would be more peaceful the rest of the night.

~o~o~o~

The next day Lucy seemed calmer, less sad, and she seemed more open and friendly to him. If she recalled anything from the Fade she didn't indicate it.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes as they worked together on healing people in the courtyard. He was exhausted from his night.

"You look tired, Anders," she said as they worked. "You should have some of the Antivan coffee I bought."

He smiled ruefully. "That stuff tastes nasty."

She nodded. "At first, but it grows on you. Put some cream in it, that mellows it out."

He shook his head. "No need, I'll just keep rejuvenating myself." He cocked his head at her. "How are you sleeping?"

She pursed her lips. "Well, I had a lot of nightmares at first, after what happened with Wolf and the templars, but last night I had a pretty good night's sleep." Her eyes went a little unfocused and she stared off into the distance. "I think I dreamt about clouds." She shook her head as if clearing it of images. "Silly thing to dream about."

Anders cast a rejuvenation spell on himself and his sleepiness left. "Nothing silly about clouds. Better than darkspawn, I should think!"

She nodded vigorously. "Much. I hope to never dream about the archdemon ever again. He was in my dreams every night during the Blight."

Anders noted that she didn't remember her dream about the archdemon and her husband and was glad for that. How many times had she seen him fall in her sleep? If he could give her a respite from that, he would.

~o~o~o~

Every night he did the same thing: Sought her out in the Fade and helped her evade the bad dreams that seemed to always be waiting for her. Every day she seemed much improved, more upbeat, and less sad. Each night her dreams were easier, less anxious and traumatic. Sometimes he saw glimpses of her world through her dreams. There was the time when she was just a child and fell on some moving stairs, skinning her knees. She screamed in terror, convinced she would be sucked into the stairs and torn to ribbons. He was there to grasp her hand and heal her knees.

It wasn't all terror. Some were glorious dreams of flying, or running as a horse across a spring meadow. One time he found her entwined between two men, both kissing and touching her, and each other. He watched in fascination, wondering if this was memory or fantasy… or both. He figured one was her Antivan assassin lover, the other was her Grey Warden husband. _Interesting._ He was dying to ask her about it the next day, but then she'd know he had been following her in her dreams.

Finally, one night he found himself in her dream. That was awkward. Did she really find him that goofy? No wonder he wasn't getting anywhere with her. She was playing lightning bolt tag with him, his double, in a grassy meadow. He decided to join in the game and see what happened. He grasped her arm and sent a tiny lightning bolt into her. The magic made her see him.

"You're it, Lucy," he said as dream-Anders stood and stared at him.

"Hey wait, no fair, there are two of you!" She put her hands on her hips and pouted.

Real-Anders backed up and shrugged, ready to run if she came for him. "Get rid of that other me, he's just an illusion."

"Get rid of him? But he is you." She looked between them in confusion. Dream-Anders took advantage of her distraction and crept up behind her and zapped her with a lightning bolt.

"Ow!" she shrieked and turned, ready to zap him, but he grabbed her and sank his fingers into her waist, tickling her. She screamed in laughter and struggled to get away. "Stop, stop, stop! Tickling is _not_ in the rules!"

Anders watched in alarm as the struggling pair sank to the ground, his dream-twin tickling her and pulling her closer, moving in for the kill. He knew what was coming.

"No!" He ran over and pulled himself off her, just before he kissed her. He punched himself in the mouth, well, his dream-self. "Fraud! Get off her." His dream-self wiped a trail of blood away and prepared to cast a spell.

"Anders..ses!" She looked between the two, her brow creasing with confusion. "Behave yourselves."

"Yes, Commander," the dream-Anders said. He picked up her hand and kissed it. "Anything you wish."

"You complete, and utter prat," Anders growled at his dream-self. "Get lost."

Lucy looked between the pair of Anders as if trying to decide which one was real. Suddenly the dream version disappeared. "All right, then." She sat back down on the grass and smoothed out her dress and patted the ground next to her. "Now, where were we?"

He grinned and sat down next to her. "I believe I was about to kiss you."

"Kiss me? You were tickling me." She took his hand and placed it on her waist. "Right here." She took his other hand and placed it on the other side of her. "And there, too." Her eyes danced as he leaned over her. "I was laughing helplessly, because I'm very ticklish." She lay back on the grass and smiled invitingly. Her dark eyes locked with his and the impish quirk on her full lips seemed to pull him down.

_I owe you, Luprous Grayson,_ Anders thought as he slowly descended on Lucy's welcoming lips. Then conscious thought went away as her soft, warm lips met his. Well, all conscious thought except the decision to channel a soft Fineger's bolt through his lips. The result would be a warm, sensuous tingling that would run through her nerves from head to toe. It worked, of course. She breathed a soft moan into his lips and her arms locked onto his back, pulling him onto her. He could feel her warm body next to his, her slim waist under his hands, her breasts pressing against his chest… it was all threatening to overwhelm him with impatience, but he wanted this to be perfect.

Something fluttered just out of his view and he turned his eyes without breaking the kiss. There were ghostly shades flittering about. _Damn it all! _One was Wolf, or the man he assumed was him, holding a crossbow, pointing it at them. Then there was that obnoxiously handsome elf and the dark-haired man. _Wait… is that Bendrick way in the back?_

"Lucy." He broke away from the kiss. "Just me, darling. I'm here with you now." He stroked the side of her neck with tiny bolts and she gasped. The ghostly images dissolved.

"Yes. Oh _Maker_, Anders," she moaned and pressed her mouth to his again.

The kiss went on and on, tongue stroking tongue, teeth nibbling lips, hands grabbing hair, the sort of a kiss that sends Fineger's bolts through the body without any magic whatsoever. He reached for the buttons on the front of her dress and began to pop them open when she broke away. "Do you hear that?"

He heard a pounding sound and thought it was something in Lucy's dream. "Ignore it, love." He pressed his lips against hers again but this time his lips contacted the grassy meadow. She was gone! Something must have awoken her. Perhaps the pounding sound had been real. Next the grassy meadow disappeared and he was in some portion of the Fade.

"Andraste's tits!"he swore. _Just his luck! _He exited the Fade and opened his eyes to find Marigold staring at his bedroom door. There were sounds of running feet and shouts.

"Darkspawn attack!" Nathaniel shouted and pounded on his door.

The Wardens assembled in the main hall and were shortly chasing off into the night after an attack on a farm. Anders's head was pounding, from lack of sleep and the frustrating interruption to his wooing of Lucy. The only consolation was that that Lucy probably felt much the same way, awoken so rudely from an erotic dream. He watched her out of the corner of his eye and noticed she looked at him a few times, looking somewhat befuddled.

After they chased down and killed a large group of darkspawn, they returned to the keep and fell into their beds just before dawn.

Anders dragged himself out of bed around midday, when Harrison came for a check-up. Harrison's skull had healed over the wound, thanks to Anders's healings, but Anders was doing a few last checks to make sure no complications had arisen.

"Maker, Anders, you look terrible," Harrison commented as he seated himself in a chair, moving a book out of the way. He glanced at the title of the book and flipped it over to see what chapter Anders was reading.

Anders snatched the book away and shelved it. _Bloody nosy templar. _Anders knew he looked pretty bad, so he rejuvenated himself. The spell was starting to have less effect than it should. "Late night chasing darkspawn." Anders answer was short and sounded, even to him, slightly peevish.

"You've been smelling of lyrium every day I come up here, and every day it seems like you're even more exhausted than the day before. What are you up to?" Harrison squinted at Anders as though he could read the answer in the mage's face if he just tried hard enough.

Anders chuckled and smirked at the templar. "I don't have to answer to you, templar. That must really rankle. If you miss bullying mages, I'm sure the Circle will be happy to have you back."

Harrison frowned at Anders. "I'm asking as a friend, not a templar. You need to take care of yourself. A fatigued mage is an easy target for demonic possession."

Anders shook his head. "First off, you're a templar, not a friend, and secondly, what you know about demons would fit inside a thimble."

Harrison didn't say anything but looked concerned. "That book…"

"Is no bloody business of yours," Anders snapped.

The templar's concerned expression remained, and he pursued the matter doggedly. "'Navigating the Fade'. Interesting reading. That chapter you're reading in particular, '_Finding a Dreamer in the Fade'. _Is that what you're spending your nights doing?"

Anders growled at the templar. "I said it was none of your business and I meant it. Now, would you shut up and let me look at your head?"

Harrison kept quiet while Anders sent magic into his head again, for a while. "All right. What you do is your own business, but I'm concerned about you. You do know what happened to Luprous Grayson, don't you?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'm about to find out," he grumbled.

"He went to the Fade and never came back, Anders. Eventually his body died." The concerned look on Harrison's face deepened. "Just… be careful."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I think you all make this garbage up. Why would someone stay in the Fade?"

"The dream world can be a very powerful draw to people who don't have much to look forward to in their real lives. Even your commander…"

"Leave her out of it," Anders snapped.

Harrison cut off abruptly and looked at Anders, his eyebrows rising as if in understanding. "It's her, isn't it? What _are_ you doing, Anders?"

Throwing up his hands, Anders stalked off to his cabinet full of herbs. "All right, we're done here. You're fit to travel back to the Circle and go back to persecuting mages."

"Anders…" Harrison got up and moved toward the mage.

Anders wheeled around and glared at the templar. "Sod off! I've had enough lecturing."

Harrison sighed heavily and walked out of his room, pausing at the door. "Anders, I don't have anything against mages, you know that."

He shoved the door shut in the templar's face and felt a pang of regret. Harrison was okay, if a bit sanctimonious. The templar had timed his meddling badly. Anders didn't have the patience to deal with it just then. His fatigue was getting the better of him.

He turned from the door and heard a knock. "Leave me the fuck alone!" he shouted. _Stupid templar didn't know when to quit._

"Anders… You might want to rephrase that," he heard Lucy's voice say through the door.

"Oh Maker, great," he muttered to Marigold. "Brilliant. Bloody, fucking brilliant of me." He went to the door and opened it, a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry, Commander, I thought you were Harrison."

She cocked her head at him and frowned. "I would probably be dead if it weren't for Harrison, you know."

"He's a _templar_, Lucy. You've had a taste of them now."

Lucy walked into his room and shut the door. "I have, and three out of the five I've had dealings with recently were complete asses. However, they're not all that way. Harrison certainly isn't and Alistair isn't either."

Anders sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. "All right. I confess Harrison seems to defy my expectations, from time to time."

Lucy nodded and sat on the chair Harrison had been sitting on earlier. "I'd hate to be judged by the mages who make a bad name for mages, you know? I mean, look at the reputation that the Antivan Crows have, and yet I fell in love with one who defied predictions and turned out to be a nice guy. Nice, but dangerous." She smiled. "Well, not dangerous to me."

_Oh great, why do I have to fall for an assassin's woman? _

"Anders, you look like absolute hell… er, I mean you look like something the cat dragged in, from the void or something. Are you all right?"

She stood up and walked over to him, put a hand on his forehead, and used her budding magical diagnostic skills to see if anything physical was wrong. Anders felt a moment of pride seeing his student put her skills to work on him. She searched him, looking for something wrong, then shrugged and took her hand off. "I can't tell. I suck at this."

He smiled at her. "You don't suck at it, you just need more training. This can take years to learn, you know. But the reason you can't sense anything is because there's nothing wrong with me."

"Well, you're exhausted. That doesn't take magic to see. Go back to bed after I leave. Last night was a long night, and that's the reason I'm here right now." She settled back down in the chair.

"Oh? Grey Warden-y stuff then?"

She nodded. "The darkspawn attacks are getting worse. They attacked three farms last night and were headed to a fourth when we killed them. I've been putting it off until we got to the bottom of this conspiracy, but we're going to have to go check out that chasm the hunters found."

"Oh right, the chasm. I had nearly forgotten about it. Do you think that's where the darkspawn are coming from?"

She nodded slowly. "Possibly. I'm afraid it might lead to the Deep Roads and Maker only knows what… We've got to go there, and soon. Please, catch up on your sleep and start collecting whatever herbs you need. Hopefully it's just a small bit of Deep Roads, but my luck isn't that good."

"When do we leave?" he asked.

"I should get these trials over with first, but I don't think we can wait." She bit her lip and paused a moment. "Three days." A sad look stole over her face.

Anders guessed she was thinking about how hard it would be to leave Danny. "Are you sure you're up to this now?" It was only two weeks ago since she refused to get out of bed.

Lucy nodded. "I have to be." She stood up and straightened her shoulders resolutely. "Maybe the answer to these weird talking darkspawn is down there."

Anders nodded. "What do you make of this Architect fellow?"

Lucy sighed. "I don't know. He's definitely not like any other darkspawn I've seen. His notes we found in the silverite mine and what he said… it almost makes me think he didn't intend to kill those Grey Wardens, he wanted their blood for something."

"That right there is seven kinds of creepy," Anders said.

"Oh agreed, but he seemed… call me crazy, but he seemed like he was trying to figure things out. Like there was a puzzle he was trying to solve. I didn't get the overwhelming urge to kill him, like I normally do with darkspawn. I wanted to sit down and talk to him awhile and figure out what he was up to. You know?"

Anders looked at Lucy questioningly. "You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head. "I'm not." She laughed. "Okay, perhaps I am crazy."

Anders shook his head. "No, you're not." His eyes softened as he remembered her dream from last night.

Lucy looked away and then back at him, plainly uncomfortable about something. "There's another matter I wanted to discuss with you."

Heart lurching involuntarily, he met her gaze. He didn't dare get his hopes up, but…

"I want to ask Harrison to join us." She looked at him warily, like she was waiting for an explosion.

"You what?" Anders stood up quickly, his disbelief plainly written on his face. "You want the full Circle experience here at the Vigil?"

"Yeah, I was afraid that would be your reaction. Look Anders, Harrison really is a nice guy and I don't think he can go back to the Chantry. He stood up to his brothers, and they're dead now. He's spoken to me of what he's seen at the Circle and it tears him apart. I _owe _him my life. I owe you too, of course, but if Harrison hadn't been there, I'm sure I would have died. Perhaps you would have, too."

Anders growled. "He's a templar, Lucy. No matter how nice he is he's always going to be nattering at us for something."

Lucy shrugged. "He's a trained fighter and he will be great to have around to deal with darkspawn mages. We need him. I can put up with some nattering in return for laying some hurt on emissaries."

Anders rubbed at his forehead. _Maker's breath. _He… well, all right, he… lahhhh…la…luh… uhved… loved – internally he flinched at the word, but he had acknowledged it at last – this woman, but he hated this decision. Still, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. "Have you asked him?"

Lucy shook her head. "Not yet, I wanted to talk to you first. There's always the possibility he might say no."

"One can always hope," Anders said.

"Snark is so unbecoming." She sighed and got up. "Get some sleep, Anders. Start getting ready to leave. If you need help gathering herbs or making potions, let me know. I'll assign someone to assist you."

He watched her get up and go to the door. She turned and met his eyes briefly before leaving. There was a hint of something in her expression. Some question unasked, some need unmet; one he wanted to draw from her, but couldn't, at least not in the waking world. Events had widened the gap between them. When she could trust herself again, perhaps she would be more receptive to him.

Anders was nothing if not tenacious. Seven escape attempts proved he wasn't a quitter and he certainly wouldn't quit now. Not if he had to swear off sleeping for months.

"Seven times, Lucy," he muttered at the closed door. "I'm not giving up."

**Harrison**

"Sod tradition," Lucy said to Nathaniel. "You didn't have to kill darkspawn before your Joining either. Just say the words, I'll do the little ritual thingy and give him the potion."

Nathaniel growled something under his breath in return.

Harrison hated hearing the hushed argument between the two Wardens, his soon-to-be Commander and her second, but there was no escaping it. It had been something of a surprise when she'd come to see him that very afternoon and asked him if he wanted to be a Grey Warden. He had been dreading returning to the tower and answering questions about his fellow templars and why they hadn't returned. He suspected if he returned they'd ask questions about the Warden-Commander and he knew he couldn't lie. They'd find out she was a mage and eventually they would know he had stood against his brothers. He might end up in Aeonar, or hung, if they blamed him for their deaths.

The Grey Wardens were legendary and there were many templars who had joined their ranks. There would be no shame in joining them. His loyalties would be to the Wardens first, the Chantry second, and he explained that to the Warden-Commander. She was wise in seeing that it was a good thing to have a templar around. Even though she had grown up an apostate mage, probably trained by other apostates, she saw the wisdom of having a templar in their midst. She must understand the ever-present danger of demonic possession.

He hoped that he could win Anders's trust someday, but he got along just fine with Nathaniel. The dwarf, Oghren, seemed like a good, sturdy sort, certainly someone you'd want fighting at your side. Lucy, er, the Warden-Commander, was a legend in her own right: She had found Andraste's sacred ashes and had killed the archdemon. There was something almost… _otherworldly_ about her. There was such a tragic aura about her.

He sighed thinking over the stories he'd heard of her, a lovely, young, noble-woman whose family had been ruthlessly slaughtered before her eyes. She'd been inducted into the Grey Wardens, and then fought so hard to end the Blight, only to lose her husband in that final battle. That much of her story was known all over Ferelden and oft repeated in tales that seemed to grow. The part of her story that had happened since then was known only to a few and he felt privileged to know some of it.

She had lead the battle at Vigil's Keep while very pregnant and had given birth only minutes after defeating the darkspawn here. Then, he'd learned recently, there had been a plot to assassinate her and they were in the process of catching the conspirators when the whole mix-up with him and his brother templars had happened. Fortunately Anders had arrived to help sort out that mess.

Harrison had a very bad case of hero worship. To find out that the Warden-Commander was a mage had been a little confusing at first, but he remembered that some people - ones who are usually labeled heretics and had their books burned by the Chantry– thought Andraste might have been a mage. In the last few days, his image of Andraste had changed slightly when he prayed. She had curly red hair now, instead of blonde.

Lucy stirred something into the Joining potion and looked up at him. "Harrison, as I explained there are secrets the Wardens keep, and the exact nature of the Joining is one of them. There is some danger involved. If you want to back out, this is your last chance." Her face was very serious, but kind. "If you choose to go forward, you must keep this ceremony a secret."

Harrison nodded. "Of course, Warden-Commander. You will have my full, unquestioning loyalty."

Lucy nodded and her face brightened. "Good." She turned to Nathaniel and nodded.

Anders and Oghren moved to either side of him, slightly behind him.

"Since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony: Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you." Nathaniel intoned, his voice very solemn.

She didn't take her eyes off the templar as she lifted a small knife and cut a gash across her palm. "Môže byť silne krv ochrániť. Ouch."

Harrison's eyes grew round. _Blood magic? Was this why the Grey Wardens were so surrounded in secrecy?_

Lucy let her blood drip into the chalice, which smelled faintly of cinnamon, and a haze of red-magic swirled around it a moment. She handed the fancy cup to Harrison. "Take a swallow of that."

His hands closed around the chalice and he stared into its depths a moment considering that he was about to participate in a blood magic ritual. _Maker forgive me. _He had given his word to her, he wouldn't back out now. He brought the chalice up to his lips and drank. Nothing happened at first, but then he began to feel dizzy.

"From this day forth, you are a Grey Warden, Harrison."

That was the last thing he heard the Commander say as his vision clouded and all he could see were the frightening shapes of darkspawn swarming over a desolate landscape.

_~o~o~o~_

Oghren and Anders caught the now ex-templar as he fell and settled him down gently on the floor. Anders, with a sour look on his face, put his hands on Harrison.

"He'll be fine."

Lucy let out a breath and looked visibly relieved.

Oghren chuckled. "Poor sod." He looked up at his commander with an amused expression. "When are you planning to tell him you're an abomination?"

~o~o **NOTES **o~o~o

My eternal gratitude to my beta-reader, Biff. And many, many thanks to all who review! I'm like a rat in a maze, your feedback keeps me pressing the bar hoping for a pellet. I get seriously excited to see a review in my inbox. Consider it a xmas present to me.

If it seems like an odd way to end the chapter, I just couldn't imagine a better place to stop than letting Oghren have the last word, especially after Harrison waxed on so rhapsodicaly about the Warden-Commander. Hee hee! Lucy has quite a pedestal to fall from.

I wish you all happy holidays! Speaking of which, I believe there's a drabble in "The Lost Chapters" I wrote while writing SCIKCC about Lucy bringing the holiday of Festivus to Amaranthine. It doesn't entirely fit any longer, but it is rather amusing. Go read it if you'd like a chuckle or two.


	13. A Commander's Guide to the Deep Roads

_Sorry about all the reposts. There's something strange going on at . I am posting this chapter, but an old one keeps showing up instead._

**Lucy**

"Em, Harrison, there's a few things about the Grey Wardens we need to tell you. Our secrets and such," I explained. "First the bad news. To end a Blight a Grey Warden needs to be sacrificed by taking the killing blow at the archdemon, which is deadly to both."

Harrison nodded. "The life of a Warden is hard to require such a sacrifice." He paused a moment, his brow furrowing. "You were the one who killed the archdemon, weren't you?"

I could see my credibility falling. "Well, that's our next big secret." I laughed nervously. "Well, not such much a secret as privileged information, yes?" I rubbed the back of my neck, looking for inspiration on how to phrase this.

Nathaniel elbowed me, discreetly.

"Ow." I stole a glance at Nathaniel. He looked highly amused. "Right. I'm not precisely… normal. My circumstances are… special."

Nathaniel kicked me in such a way Harrison couldn't see it. He had his special scowl on, one that said quite plainly I was wasting time.

"Okay, let me just state right up front, I'm _not_ an abomination."

Harrison looked confused. "I never thought you were."

I flashed him a smile. "Of course not! I'm not from the Fade. I'd have to be from the Fade to be an abomination, right? More importantly, a demon, right?"

He looked even more confused. "Yes, a demon that possesses the body of a person."

I nodded confidently. "I'm definitely not an abomination." I ticked the points in my favor off on my fingers. "Not from the Fade and _not_ a demon. I fail two very essential tests for being an abomination."

Nathaniel cleared his throat.

"But, admittedly, I'm also not entirely the person I seem to be. You see, I come from a whole different world and I was put into this body - without my permission, I might add - by a very old, very powerful witch named Flemeth."

Harrison's eyebrows began trekking up his forehead. "Flemeth? _The _Flemeth of legend?"

"Yup. I was just a regular person from earth when I woke up in Thedas in Elissa's body. Then Flemeth had the nerve to tell me the Blight was my little problem to take care of."

Harrison squinted and shifted nervously in his chair. He was probably assessing my sanity right about now. "So a case of non-demonic possession? I've heard it is possible, but the magic for that sort of thing is very ancient and long forgotten."

"Ha! By coincidence, Flemeth is also very ancient and struck me as likely having a good memory." I squirmed a bit in my chair. "I don't really like the term possession in this case. It's more like… an occupancy… a vacation timeshare, if you will, for a very long vacation."

Harrison began to look nervous. "I don't understand…"

"The important point is that neither Elissa nor I were consulted about the switch. It just happened and there was no going back, especially after we killed Flemeth."

"How could you prove such a thing?" he asked me, still looking skeptical.

"Do I sound or look like a demon?" I asked.

"I'd be able to sense if you were a demon," he replied.

"What? Really? Alistair never mentioned he could do that. It sure would have saved a lot of trouble during the Blight if he had mentioned that fact."

He shook his head. "Only full templars are trained in that. He wouldn't have been trained in that until later and not everyone can learn it."

"Well, isn't that something!" I exclaimed. "So I have nothing to fear from the Chantry?"

Harrison frowned. "I wouldn't exactly say that. Possession of any sort is forbidden. You've seen what some of my fellow templars are like. They can be quite… enthusiastic in enforcing rules. I think they also see the Grey Wardens as a challenge to their authority over mages. It would be best to keep your… condition a secret."

"Hmmm…" I thought for a moment. There were other things they probably wouldn't like. "What about things like shape-changing? Wynne told me it was forbidden."

There was that little look of disbelief followed by a slow blink. "Shape-changing? That practice was banned ages ago and stamped out. You learned shape-changing?"

I nodded. "Yes, from Flemeth's daughter. She was one of the Blight companions."

"Forbidden magic is punished very harshly. The Chantry doesn't want such magic to exist, so they stamp it out of existence."

"By stamping out the mages who practice it?" I asked, not sure I really wanted to know.

He nodded. "I'm afraid so, or by making them tranquil."

Every now and then I entertained the notion of outing myself as a mage. If I ever did, I'd still have to keep my unusual circumstances a secret and not reveal some of the forbidden magic I'd learned. Would I have to remain with the Grey Wardens in order to keep my freedom?

It was useful having Harrison with us. I planned to pick his brain about the Chantry. This demon detecting business was certainly interesting. How could all those templars in the tower have fallen prey to demons with that ability? A conversation for another day.

I handed Harrison the letter the Grey Wardens from Weisshaupt had left with me. "This is from the Wardens. I was thoroughly examined and this explains it all. I think you should read this, so you don't think I'm completely insane."

Harrison unfolded the letter, noting the Grey Warden wax seal, and read. "Well, it does say you're not a demon and that you are under protection of the Grey Wardens." He folded the letter back up and returned it.

"Getting back to your other question about why I didn't die when I killed the archdemon, I believe the archdemon tried to take over my mind and seize control of me, like he would have another Grey Warden, but whatever is different about me made it impossible for him. I think he perished in the attempt. At least we haven't heard a peep out of him since he died."

Harrison nodded slowly, still looking skeptical and exceedingly concerned.

"Are we good then?" I asked.

"Er, yes. I think so," he said hesitantly.

"Good man," Nathaniel said. "Give it some time. The idea is like eating too many fried onions in one sitting, it keeps trying to come back up, but you'll digest it eventually."

I stared at Nathaniel a moment, a little put out by the comparison. "Fried onions… thanks. I appreciate the help, Howe."

He smiled a bit smugly.

"Were there other secrets?" Harrison asked, looking a like he was steeling himself to hear the next bad bit of news.

"Um… there are some trivial things that aren't exactly secrets, per se. You had dreams after the Joining? We all tend to dream about darkspawn rather a lot. It was much, much worse during the Blight." I considered whether I should tell him about the amplified appetites and decided leaving that to Nathaniel would be appropriate payback for comparing me to fried onions.

"I'll let Nathaniel explain the rest to you." I grinned at my second and stood, extending a hand to my newest recruit. "Congratulations, Warden Harrison. I'll see you tonight at dinner."

Harrison stood and saluted me. "Thank you, Warden-Commander. I won't let you down."

"At ease, Harrison. We're pretty informal here." I shot another smug look at Nathaniel and ignored the scowl I got in return.

I left Harrison's room happy I didn't get smited after my confession. I thought Harrison would see the others accepting the idea of my unusual origins and come to accept it eventually. Nathaniel's comparison to fried onions wasn't bad, actually.

I went downstairs to talk to Varel; he said there was something important to discuss.

"Commander, I think you should read this." He handed me an officious looking letter.

I caught sight of the seal and sighed. "Oh lovely, from Highever. What does Teyrn Fungus want now?"

Varel tried to suppress a smirk. "It's the second time he's increased our taxes since you've taken command. We simply can't afford it. We're already behind in payments to our troops and some of the staff."

"Fuck this!" I slapped the letter against my hand. "Sorry, Varel, that was directed at our mushroom overlord. I won't have people not getting paid on time. I'll pitch in more of my toilet money and write to my Denerim banker to send me more cash." I bit my lip and contemplated the severity of the austerity program I would have to undertake. "Cancel my standing order with the coffee and chocolate merchant."

"Commander…"

"No, no… I'll tolerate the caffeine withdrawals. I'm sure Anders can whip up something to dull the headache."

"Commander…" Varel tried to interrupt me.

"I insist. There must be some other places we can cut back," I persisted, nobly trying to find additional means to conserve our money.

"Commander, I was just going to say let's ignore this increase and continue to send our usual payment. If he presses us on it, we can just plead that we're too cash-strapped."

"What can he do?" I asked.

"He could start seizing crops, timber or some other asset, but it'll take time for him to mobilize. Perhaps you can get some of your influential friends to intervene?" he suggested.

I nodded. "Yes, perhaps that will work. Meanwhile, I'll get you some cash from my toilet factory." I swore again. "I'm reasonably certain I shouldn't have to be paying for this stuff out of my own pockets, but what else can I do?"

Varel shook his head. "I'll make note of all the expenses you've covered and we'll reimburse you from the arling's profits when we can."

"If we ever have any…" I muttered.

Varel put his hand on my shoulder. "We will. Once the darkspawn are handled and we bring in a good crop, you'll see. This arling provided a very good income for the former arl and his family."

"If anyone can make that happen, you can, Varel. Thanks for all your hard work."

"My pleasure, Commander. Now if you'll excuse me."

"Of course." I let him get back to his work and I realized that I only had two days left to prepare for our trip to the chasm, which I strongly suspected was going to lead into the Deep Roads. Ugh. I began making a mental list of everything I needed to take: Fluffy towels, chocolate, coffee…

**Loghain**

At long last, the unrest in the Bannorn was settled. Loghain received news from Denerim and had parleyed with the banns and freeholders at his daughter's request. They had reached a settlement and it was finally done. Loghain turned around his troops and headed back to Denerim.

His expression was grim as he went to see his daughter and her husband. "Charity," he spat the word like he'd swallowed filth. "Charity from Orlais! That I should live to see this." He glowered at Alistair. "You should have let me kill the archdemon, perhaps I would have been spared... this!"

Loghain caught sight of a secretive smile from his daughter to Alistair. She thought she was being subtle, but he saw her mouth the words: "I told you so." It just made him madder. "Mark my words, Anora, the Orlesians will have strings attached. They'll send an invasion force along with it."

"Father!" She sounded exasperated. "They were starving in the Bannorn, the rest of us will be starving in the next few months. We had no choice. I had to send an envoy to our neighbors to plead for help. The Orlesians were grateful to us for ending the Blight so quickly and were the first to respond. They're selling the grain for next to nothing. The Antivans and Free Marchers haven't been anywhere near as generous."

Loghain's shoulders tightened. "Beware of Trojan horses, Anora. Lucy told me about gifts containing the seeds of destruction. It'll be poisoned at the very least."

"We'll test it out on rats first then," she said, "but I'm not letting our people starve because we're too proud to accept help when we need it."

Loghain grumbled under his breath. "Where's my grandson? I haven't seen him in months."

Anora got up and took her father's hand. "Come with me. He's missed you. You won't believe how he's grown!"

Loghain trailed after her listening to her chatter. Despite everything, he was glad the rebellion in the Bannorn had been resolved, and with so few fatalities. Now he could see his grandchild and go to Amaranthine to see the boy he claimed was his son.

He spent several days in Denerim and prepared to make an extended trip to Amaranthine. He didn't want Lucy to have to go to any trouble on his account so he didn't let her know he was coming. Her seneschal would probably insist on observing proper protocol and feasting him; he didn't want that. He just wanted to spend time with his boy and Lucy. He would do whatever he could to be useful around the keep. Perhaps he could give advice on the fortifications they were rebuilding, spend some time reviewing her troops and whatever else was needed.

When all was ready he set out with a half-dozen of his own guard and they rode to Amaranthine, hoping to make it in two days. It snowed lightly but they made good time.

Varel, the sensible seneschal he'd met the last time he was here, rushed to the courtyard as they rode up. He accepted their arrival in stride. Lucy ran out not long after he had handed his mount's reins to a stable boy. She looked happy to see him but her manner was subdued.

"This is a surprise, Loghain." She bounced up and down trying to keep warm "Come in! It's freezing out here." She shivered, wrapping her knitted shawl closer around her. "You never like to give us warning, do you?" She ran up the stairs ahead of him and his men and held the door open for him.

"I didn't want you to go to any trouble on my account," Loghain said. He looked around the great hall as he walked in. It looked much restored from the darkspawn attack nearly five months earlier.

"Come on, I'm sure you'll want to see Danny. He's grown." Lucy cornered a servant and asked for mulled wine and a Grey Warden snack to be delivered to her sitting room.

Loghain mused over what a Grey Warden snack would be, hoping it would be meal-sized; he hadn't eaten for many hours. He followed her up the stairs. His eyes followed the sway of her hips, mesmerized and rather missing them.

"It's so good to see you, Loghain. It's been a little rough here." She threw the comment over her shoulder as they went up.

Somehow Loghain thought she might be tempering her words. There was something different about her. She seemed more somber. _She isn't happy. _That was it.

She showed him into her sitting room. "I'll ask Iveta to bring Daniel." He sat down and waited for her while she went to the nursery.

Her sitting room was quite plain. The furniture was worn and there wasn't a lot of it, but it was comfortable. He poured himself a brandy from the decanter and stood by the fire, warming his backside, still frozen after the two day ride in the cold.

She came back shortly. "She's nursing him now, but she'll bring him out when he's done. He's got quite an appetite, so it could be awhile." She went to him in front of the fire and hugged him, clinging to him for longer than he expected. "I've missed everyone so much, Loghain. Everything here has been just horrible for the most part." She rose up on her toes and pecked him on the cheek with a chaste kiss.

He wrapped an arm around her and hugged her. "I've missed you too, Lucy. What has been going on? You haven't said much in your letters."

She went over to a chair near the fire and sat. "I doubt you came all the way here to listen to me complain."

He grunted at her, his mouth curling a little into a bare smile. There was, clearly, a lot on her mind and he intended to hear it. "Tell you what, I'll listen to your complaints and then you can hear mine. Fair trade?"

She finally smiled in a way that felt more real than her other smiles had been. "Fair trade, then." She stared at her toes for a moment. "Well, I hardly know where to start. There was a conspiracy to kill me that nearly succeeded. Teyrn Cousland is a complete and total ass. Darkspawn are talking and experimenting on Grey Wardens. Other than Danny, I pretty much hate my life."

"Whoa! Slow down, Lucy. One at a time. Who tried to kill you?" Loghain sat down in another chair, his face looking concerned.

She listed the names of the bann and lords they'd implicated in the conspiracy. "They're in prison, awaiting a trial."

"How did you catch them?" he asked. "What happened?"

She shook her head. "I thought I was leading the ring-leader, Bann Esmerelle, into a trap. However someone betrayed me and she was ready for me. I was nearly carted off to the Circle, although I would have died long before we got there if my Wardens hadn't shown up. But at least we came out of it with enough proof to get the worst of the conspirators."

Loghain stared into the fireplace. "Maker, you never should have been put in charge of this arling. The man you killed had too many friends wanting to avenge his death. They lost their prestige and power when he died."

She nodded. "I agree, it was politically tone-deaf of the Wardens, but this is why I want to put Nathaniel in charge, of the arling at least."

Loghain stared at her. "Nathaniel... not Nathaniel _Howe_? Dear Maker, tell me you didn't..." _Had she? No… it was beyond what even she would do._

"I recruited him. Well, conscripted him actually. He was in a spot of trouble and I didn't want to see him hang. He's working out. He was critical to unraveling the conspiracy."

"Lucy! We don't take lands away from families just to hand them back a few months later."

She huffed indignantly. "He wouldn't have it back any more than I'm a real Arlessa. I'm just managing things for the Wardens, the arling was given to the order, not an individual. Nathaniel is a Warden, so that makes him eligible for the job."

"The Landsmeet would have to be convinced," Loghain said gruffly.

Lucy cocked her head. "What do you mean? I wasn't approved by the Landsmeet."

"You will be, come spring. You'll have to be approved. Just a formality in your case."

She sighed, a look of misery painted her features. "This is a giant quagmire, isn't it? The more I struggle to get free of it, the more it pulls me down."

Loghain sighed. "Now you know how I've felt all these years."

"Nathaniel would be far better at this than I am. Maybe I could appoint him after they approve me. Then they'd have to live with it until the next Landsmeet and by then he'd have proven himself."

Loghain shook his head. "I don't know. Anora might be a better judge of that than I am. Talk to her before you do this."

She nodded. "I will. At the very least, I can unofficially let him run the arling. I will be a figurehead, if I must, or just lead the Grey Wardens." She mused thoughtfully for a moment. "Or I'll just quietly leave the country and let you all sort it out."

Loghain glared at her.

Iveta walked into the sitting room with Daniel in her arms. She handed the boy to Lucy then bowed to Loghain and left.

"Hello, my sweetie," she cooed at him. "Loghain is here! Do you remember Loghain? He was the very cross man who was here the night you were born." She looked at him out of the side of her eye with a smirk on her face.

"Cross?" Loghain laughed. "Me? Never!" He stepped to her side and peered down at the baby. "Don't believe a word your mother says about me, lad." He held out his arms. "May I?"

Lucy nodded and handed Daniel over to him. "What do you think? He's just about perfect isn't he?" She seemed to glow when she talked about him.

Loghain looked into his face. "He's got the Mac Tir brow, and my hair, so yes, he is perfect." He winked at his son. "Don't get vain, boy, I wasn't that popular with the ladies."

"Perhaps if you didn't scare them so much. How're things going with your widow? What is her name, you never did tell me."

He shrugged. "Lorraine. Things are fine. I haven't seen her for months though. She may have decided to move on, I don't know. I wouldn't blame her. I've been in the Bannorn trying to settle a rebellion."

"Everything worked out, I take it?" she asked.

Loghain grimaced and Danny, seeing his expression, squirmed and fussed. "Sorry, Dan, I wasn't angry with you. It's my blasted daughter and her foolish husband."

"Oh, oh. What did they do?" Lucy asked.

"They're accepting grain from Orlais that they're practically giving to us." He forced himself to keep his voice light and pleasant so it wouldn't scare his son. "They're starving in the Bannorn, so we have to accept charity from Orlais."

Lucy looked at him warily. "You think this is some sort of a plot?"

"Of course it is. Orlais doesn't do anything without a purpose, does it, my Dan?" His voice turned from gruff to light mid-sentence when he remembered he was holding his son.

"Perhaps their purpose is to foster better relations with their neighbors, or to show their gratitude that we nipped the Blight in the bud so quickly."

Loghain looked up from his son and sneaked a quick glare at Lucy. "Oh, Dan, your mommy is so funny sometimes, isn't she? She thinks those bad, old Orlesians want to be our friends now!" He laughed and tickled Danny under the chin. "Silly, old mommy! Isn't she the one who told me the story of the Trojan Horse? Has she told you that one yet?"

Lucy looked amused with his speaking to her through their son. "Trust, but verify, Loghain. Take reasonable precautions, but be prepared to take the olive branch if it is a legitimate offer of friendship."

Loghain wiggled his eyebrows comically at his son. "Legitimate offer of friendship! Hee hee! Mommy is sooooo funny."

Daniel laughed and waved his fists.

"See, my son agrees with me. Mommy is very silly." Loghain sat on another chair next to Lucy. "So, what's going on with Fergus Cousland?

There had only been a few times when Loghain had seen Lucy truly angry, and this was one of them.

"That bastard rode here with a dozen soldiers and threatened me and Nathaniel in our own keep!" She stood up and paced. "He called Daniel a bastard and demanded I name his father." Her fists clenched and her brow furrowed. "The things he said about Daniel! I was about to castrate the asshole if he called him a bastard one more time. He said I was trying to use Daniel to take Highever from him."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I had married Riordan. I didn't want to tell him anything. The jerk! I shouldn't have to explain myself to him." She pounded one hand into the palm of the other. "Then... he made me kneel and swear an oath of fealty to him and kiss his stupid sword!" She laughed, bitterly. "I did it, but I shocked him with a spell and he dropped the sword. He swore he'd make me pay for my insolence, and he has! He's raised our taxes twice. We'd be unable to pay our staff and troops if I weren't using my own funds."

"Take Daniel back to his nurse." He was trying to keep his features pleasant and his voice light so he wouldn't scare the boy, but he wasn't sure he could hold the facade much longer.

She took him from Loghain and went back to the nursery. A few moments later she returned.

Loghain paced back and forth and didn't say anything, trying to collect his thoughts. This was worse than Lucy realized. Matters of inheritance often shortened life expectancies dramatically. His son, or even Lucy, might be assassinated to remove them. "Lucy, you and Daniel could be in danger. If he thinks you might be using Daniel to get Highever..."

"No! It's not an issue. I told him to disown me and I've heard he has. Neither of us is in line for succession. I told him I didn't want Highever."

He shook his head. "It won't hold any water with the Landsmeet if he should die without his own heir. He knows that. They'd give Highever to your son, and appoint you as regent. Just as bad, Fergus is your Teyrn, he's supposed to have troops and support for you when you need it. I can't imagine he would provide you much protection or help."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid to ask, to tell the truth. I just assume he'd thumb his nose at me."

Loghain stopped pacing and stared at Lucy. "You have to protect Daniel from him, Lucy. I was going to suggest this anyway, but it becomes imperative now. I must make him my heir."

Lucy's mouth gaped open and she stared at Loghain. "No! We can't condemn him to that sort of life! He deserves to be a normal kid. You hate being a Teyrn, why would you want that for him?" She glared at him.

Loghain grasped her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Lucy, wake up! This is to protect him from Fergus. If he's my heir he can't be Fergus's."

She pulled away and turned her back to him, saying nothing but staring pensively into the fireplace, her arms folded across her chest.

"Oh now… it isn't that bad. Most people would sell their souls to be nobles and rule over a patch of Thedas. With me, it just..." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around so she had to look at him. "I never got to choose anything for myself and then suddenly I was a Teyrn when I would have been happy just having a good fertile farm. I wasn't trained for it and the real nobles resented me because I wasn't one of them. It won't be that way for Daniel, I promise."

"Loghain," she moaned. Resting her forehead on his chest she sighed deeply. "I wanted Danny to be able to be whatever he wanted, not assigned to a role that he may end up hating." She looked up at him. "Promise me you won't take him from me to mold into some sort of robo-noble?"

"Robo-noble?" Loghain asked. "Never mind, I don't need to know. I promise I won't take him from you. When he's older you both can spend some time in Gwaren, but not for many years. He'll learn what he needs to know from you and Varel here, and me when I can come. I'll come as often as I can. Should something happen to me, you can be his regent until he's old enough."

"But what if he really hates it?"

"Then he can resign from it and Anora can find someone else." Lucy had to be the only woman in Ferelden who didn't want her son growing up to be a Teyrn. It made him admire her even more than he had before. "Lucy, it will be all right. He may really enjoy it and be talented at it. Or perhaps just an adequate Teyrn with a really good seneschal and lieutenant."

Lucy sighed and sagged against Loghain. "Why doesn't anything ever go the way I plan? Ever since Zevran left, my life has been utter shit."

There it was, out in the open. She'd brought up the elf. He opened his mouth and drew breath to speak but caught himself at the last moment. Too soon, still. He would hold his tongue... for now. Someday they would have this discussion, but today wasn't the day. "So, do you agree, Warden-Commander?"

He heard her chuckle against his chest at the title. "If there's absolutely no other way, then yes. I'll raise Danny with proper values before any nobles can influence him with their greed, ambition, and pettiness."

Loghain chuckled and leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "That's my girl."

Lucy sighed and hugged him tightly. "I missed you, Loghain. I have no friends here. The darkspawn suck more than ever."

There was a quiet knock on the door and Lucy pried herself away from him and opened it. A servant brought in their mulled wine, another servant behind that one had a large tray of food and there was a third behind that one. This must be the "Grey Warden snack" she'd asked for. The servants arranged the food on a table and then left them.

They ate heartily, Loghain more so than Lucy, but he had been traveling all day. The wine warmed his belly and the warmth from the fireplace finally thawed his extremities. He finished eating and settled back in a chair with another glass of mulled wine and sighed contentedly.

"So, tell me about the talking darkspawn," he said.

She told how they had been captured by The Architect and had learned he was experimenting on Grey Wardens, or using their blood for something. "You'll never believe this but he seems to want the hostilities between our people and his to stop. At least, that's the impression I got. He's just… he can't communicate with us all that well. He finds us puzzling. He seemed sad…"

Loghain rolled his eyes. "Darkspawn are not people. Please don't tell me you're sympathizing with them now."

"No, but I just wish I understood this one a little better. Anyway, the darkspawn attacks have gotten worse and we're probably going to have to go to the Deep Roads and ferret this out. We were planning to leave tomorrow, but I will postpone it a couple of days."

He nodded. "If you can. I will stay at the keep while you're gone and look over the fortifications and your troops, and spend time with Danny." He smiled grimly. "I think you also should write to Fergus Cousland and ask for troops before you leave."

Lucy looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Ugh. Why? I can't imagine he'd cooperate."

Loghain chuckled, slightly evilly. "He has to. It's his duty as your overlord to provide forces when his vassals need it. Exactly as you've done for Amaranthine and your lords."

Tipping her head to the side, Lucy chewed her lip. "What if he doesn't? Or what if he sends me a bunch of untrained troops?"

Loghain smiled smugly and swirled a crust through the remains of his stew. "You'd have a valid complaint against him."

"I've got all kinds of valid complaints against him, what would one more mean?"

His chuckle was an evil one. "It doesn't happen often, but one can change lieges in Ferelden if their lord is negligent about their duties. One can switch allegiances for even minor transgressions, but it is only rarely done."

Lucy dropped her fork. "You mean, I could tell him to go fuck himself?" Her excitement shone in her face.

He nodded, appreciating her blunt way of stating it. "There's another Teyrn who would be a much more sympathetic lord."

"You? Interesting." She bit her lip. "But isn't the whole purpose to have the Teyrn to protect his vassals? Gwaren is awfully far to the south."

"I keep a lot of troops in Denerim. They're closer to you than Highever."

"What about my vassals? Wouldn't they take the opportunity to defect?"

He smiled slyly. "If you joined with me, I could extend a very favorable tax status that you could pass onto your vassals. They'd have to be fools to pass that up."

The happy, mischievous look on her face was worth it. "I'll do it! Anything to get out from under Cousland's thumb."

It wasn't a bad arrangement for Loghain either. His port and Amaranthine's would have special trading terms. Amaranthine would buy Gwaren's wood and his people could use Amaranthine's grain.

"All right. Write out a letter asking Fergus for troops and let's see how he responds. If he fails this test, then I think no one would blame you for defecting."

Perhaps she wasn't happy, but at least she seemed a little happier now. He had missed her while he was in the Bannorn trying to quell the rebellion. Seeing his son was certainly well worth the visit, but seeing his mother was incentive too.

She looked a little skinny on this visit. She had lost the roundness that motherhood had given her and was more like she had been during the Blight: tough and lean. He settled back into his chair and drank his ale, sighing contentedly.

"You seem happy, Loghain," she commented, scrutinizing him closely.

He smiled at her over the tankard. "Why shouldn't I be? I'm full, warm and having dinner with a beautiful woman, the mother of my son."

She flushed a little at the compliment. She picked up a bowl of apple cobbler and carried it to his chair. "Perhaps some dessert could make you even happier."

He took it from her and set it down on the table and took her hand, pulling her into his lap. "Perhaps there's something else I want even more than dessert." He pulled aside her braid and kissed the back of her neck.

"Oh." She twisted around to look at him. "Loghain, I can't." She got up from his lap and sat down in her own chair again.

There was that look on her face again. "It's the… your Antivan? You've heard from him?"

"I just… I haven't made the best choices recently. It's best if we don't." There was a delicate furrow between her brows.

"Oh? Do you want to talk about it?" He was curious about her sudden attack of chastity, it seemed very unlike her. Once they'd been close… very close, but their association during the Blight had been fraught with tension, as well as passion. He hadn't asked too many questions about her relationship with Riordan and Zevran, he just tried to ignore it.

She stared at him a moment, as if considering whether to confide in him or not, then she stood up, turned, and lifted the hem of her dress above her knee. At first he wondered if she'd had a change of heart and was undressing for him, then he saw what looked like a new scar.

"A scar?" He reached out with a finger and traced it from just above the back of her knee to half way up her thigh. If she thought this might discourage him from wanting her, it was having the opposite effect.

She dropped her dress and returned to her chair. "My horrible judgment nearly left Danny without a mother. I've decided to start acting like someone who has restraint and good sense. I can't continue to act like I'm going to be eaten by an archdemon next week and that excuses everything I do. There are people who depend on me and I won't let them down again."

There it was. That was what had changed, he realized. She was beginning to feel the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. It was a trait he'd wished Maric and Cailan had possessed, but truthfully, he had enjoyed the benefits of Lucy's carefree attitude. Of course, she was a mother now, the mother of the boy he claimed as his son. She was absolutely right, yet he felt regret too. The thought of her had warmed many a cold night on his recent campaign.

He considered minding his own business, but seeing as how this was the mother of his child, he had a right to know, even a responsibility. "What happened?"

She looked him in the eye as if appraising him and then looked away. "I'd rather not discuss it. It's in the past."

Loghain stared at her, turning on the full force of his most intimidating demeanor, combining it with a highly arched eyebrow. It was a look that used to make Anora burst into tears when she was young and certainly made any of his soldiers perspire heavily and sent them into a stammer. Coupling that look with a heavy silence was often enough to break Orlesian spies during the occupation.

Lucy pulled herself up straighter in her chair and inhaled deeply. "That isn't going to work on me, Loghain." She broke into a broad smile. "It reminds me of when I first met you and you tried to frighten me. It was so cute!" She shook her fist in the air. "You kids get off my lawn!" She burst into a ringing peal of laughter.

Loghain growled at her. "Oh, just tell me, woman."

She sighed. "All right, but you can't scold me with anything I haven't already scolded myself with."

He scowled at her, his curiosity really piqued now.

She took a deep breath and the words rushed out of her, like a balloon losing wind. "I had a brief affair with someone who, when he found out I wouldn't marry him, sold me to my enemies and shot me in the leg with a poisoned crossbow bolt so I couldn't escape."

Loghain rose out of the chair suddenly and loomed over her. "Holy Maker… what?" He rubbed his temple with his fingers and closed his eyes, feeling a headache starting. The moment transported him back years, but it was Maric he saw before him. "Careless, Lucy… that's just so..." He looked at her and saw her sad expression and reminded himself she'd obviously learned a lesson from this. "I hope you killed him, at the very least."

She shook her head. "I suppose he's long gone. And yes, I've learned my lesson."

He began pacing, his anger needed an outlet. "Who is he?"

Lucy shook her head. "He's probably in the Free Marches by now, or Orlais."

"I want a name!" he thundered at her. This time she did look startled at his anger.

"Lorcan Franderel, although he goes by Wolf now."

"Wolf? As in the Dark Wolf?"

She nodded, her eyes sliding away again.

"And you thought it was a good idea to sleep with a known criminal?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I thought he was on our side. But yes, I know it was stupid. He wasn't Zorro, or even the dread pirate Roberts. He was just an opportunist and I was an idiot. It won't happen again."

He turned away from her and stared into the fire. Of course he'd have to hunt him down and kill him. A message needed to be sent. Right now though, he was too angry to make polite conversation. "I'll go see to my men," he said curtly, leaving without waiting for a reply.

Loghain jogged down the stairs, still angry. The Dark Wolf had stolen from the royal treasury and rubbed their noses in it by leaving his signature at the crime scene. He'd been far too busy and his resources stretched too thin to do anything about it, but this was too much. He ran into Nathaniel Howe in the great hall.

"Howe." He recognized the man by his nose; he'd certainly inherited the Howe beak. Granted, it looked better on the son than it had on his father, but the landmark was a telling one. "What do you know of this Wolf character?"

Howe's mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "He's dead. We took care of him after that… episode."

Loghain narrowed his eyes, thinking about this revelation. "You didn't tell Lucy?"

He shook his head. "She has some odd ideas about justice. I thought it was best to handle it quietly."

Loghain nodded curtly, appreciating Howe's sensibility. This young man had, very fortunately, been an apple that had fallen far from the tree. "Good man." He clapped the Warden on the back. His opinion of Lucy's plan to hand the arling over to Howe changed. This was a solid young man.

A bit stiff from two solid days of riding and feeling antsy from his angry outburst, he needed an outlet. "Care to spar, Howe?"

Nathaniel smiled. "I think I could fit in a round or two."

He and Loghain walked companionably to the training area and spent several hours sparring and discussing fortifications. By the time supper was served Loghain was worn out.

~o~o~o~

The following two days were busy for all of them. The Wardens prepared for their excursion and Loghain, at Lucy's request, looked over the operation of the arling and their defenses and made suggestions. He reviewed what Howe had already been supervising and found the man had done good work. He approved of the reinforcements done by the dwarven engineers. He went over the arling's books with Varel and found everything in good order.

"I think you owe me a favor, Lucy," Loghain commented to her after the first busy day.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Do I now? You have been very helpful and I certainly appreciate it. Whatever I can do, name it."

"I once rode a beautiful mare who, coincidentally, shared a name with you. I think I'd like to ride that mare again." The double entendre wasn't lost on Lucy, of course.

She laughed. "As I recollect you had more than one ride."

"I did, that is true, and my earlier proposal for a ride was turned down, so I was hoping to coax that dappled gray mare out of hiding. I'm sure she could use a good run in fresh air before she goes off to the Deep Roads."

Lucy smiled at Loghain. "That does sound rather nice, actually. But, you should know, I'm very out of practice. I've avoided using horse form ever since I spent all those days in your stables with only Mabel to nicker at. I nearly went insane waiting for you to come out and ride me."

"Some might say you did," he deadpanned.

Lucy punched him lightly in the upper arm. "Let's have a picnic while we're at it, even if it is a little cold for one."

She ran off to supervise gathering food and Loghain met her in the stable. She sent the stable boy off on an errand and transformed, letting Loghain saddle her. He didn't use a bit, she complained about having the nasty thing in her mouth that a hundred horses had drooled on. He could definitely see her point.

He mounted and he could almost swear she said "Ooph!" in a horsey way. She did turn around and look at him with a significant stare. "Oh please," he protested, "I'm not even wearing any armor."

She whinnied something he felt certain was a rude reply and he chuckled. "Well, stop complaining and get on with it."

She made another rude response and then carried him out to the road. Lucy was rather rough at first, seemingly unused to her gaits, but they started to come back. She began to feel surer of herself and Loghain could tell she was getting used to it again. He urged her to go faster and she did.

Soon they were galloping across a frost covered field and they were both getting warm, despite the chill of the day. Loghain's smile split his face. He was glad no one else could see him, grinning like an idiot, riding his favorite mare across a meadow.

Almost subconsciously he reached down and stroked Lucy's neck. She snorted and put on an extra burst of speed. He laughed and urged her on. They were coming up on a small fence and he wondered if she was going to try it. He got ready for the jump, but she turned at the last moment, running parallel to it instead. They went on awhile longer, and then she finally slowed; her sides heaving from the effort.

"Tired already?" He couldn't resist goading her.

She turned her head around and snapped at the air. Her meaning was clear.

He laughed. "All right. Let's find a spot and have lunch." He spied a spot with a large flat rock. "Over there should do." He pointed at the rock.

She turned the wrong way. Of course, she couldn't see where he was pointing, so he used his knees to direct her. When they reached the rock he dismounted and began to unload her. She was quite sweaty from the run. If she transformed now, she'd be very damp and quite likely take a chill.

"Do you want me to wipe you down?" He felt a little awkward about it. There were times when this shape-changing magic made him uncomfortable and this was one of them. He pulled out a linen sheet from under her saddle. He had never given this task a second thought before with any other horse.

She snorted and nodded.

"Well then, all right." He started at her neck and rubbed briskly, trying not to think of her as a human. He dried her back, then reached under her belly and finally down her legs. "Good enough?" he asked.

She transformed while he folded up the cloth. There was a little sweat rolling down her forehead but she wiped it away. "That was a bracing run!"

If she was embarrassed by his drying her off, she covered it well. She unpacked their lunch and they sat together on the rock eating.

"Was I terrible?" she asked between hearty bites of her sandwich.

"No, but I know you're capable of much better. That other time you'd been practicing awhile, I take it?"

She nodded. "When I kidnapped you? Yes. I'd been preparing for the role. It's good to hear I'm not completely awful now. Teagan helped me with it. It must be like riding a bike, you never really forget."

"Teagan? That bastard! He knew what you were planning?" Loghain furrowed his brow and glared at Lucy.

"Uh, no, he just helped me figure out my gaits and got me used to having a rider."

Loghain thought she might be lying. "Hmmm… you trusted him with your story and your abilities?"

She nodded. "He has been a faithful friend, whereas his brother was a conniving weasel."

Loghain nodded. "That he was. What was this _bike_ you mentioned?"

"It's a conveyance with two wheels that you balance on and pedal. You can go quite fast and for long distances, but the roads have to be rather smooth." She chewed thoughtfully. "Unless you have a bike with wide tires and a very sturdy frame. They do better on rough roads. I think your metal working would have to improve considerably to make them. Oh, and you need to make rubber for the tires."

"A horse sounds easier," he said.

Lucy laughed. "Except horses can be dangerous, temperamental, and unpredictable. Bicycles are more reliable."

He looked at her out of the side of his eyes, his lips turning into a smirk. "That's for sure."

It took her a moment to realize he'd just insulted her. "Hey!" She punched him in the arm. "Not everyone is lucky to have as smart a horse as you have."

"She's not my horse, unfortunately. She was stolen from me."

She looked at him with something, a hint of sadness, perhaps. "I'm glad you'll be at the keep while we're in the Deep Roads."

Loghain knew she had deliberately changed the subject. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? What if you run into a really large infestation?"

She smiled at him. "You know what that feels like from the Blight. We'll sense them, come back home, and get help. Maybe by then Fergus will have sent some troops."

Loghain snorted. "Your brother…"

"Not mine!" she interrupted. "Please!"

"Well, Elissa's brother then. I think he'll be less than helpful. In fact, I'd be willing to bet on it."

She shook her head. "I won't take that bet. I'm sure you're right. I'd rather you stay at the keep with Danny. I need to take the other Wardens with me. Harrison needs some experience with darkspawn and working with mages, instead of against them."

"Was it wise to recruit a templar?" He wondered what Lucy had been thinking.

She shrugged. "I think so. Time will tell. Alistair had some very good skills that worked well against enemy mages. Harrison thinks for himself. He is no Chantry minion. He stood up to his brother templars when they would have killed Anders and me."

Their conversation dwindled and they ate the rest of their lunch companionable silence. Loghain wanted to talk to her about the future. Perhaps he was rushing things, but it was worth a shot.

"Have you spent any time thinking about what you'll do if your… if Zevran doesn't return from Antiva?" He ventured to ask the question that was never far from his mind.

She looked away and stared into the surrounding woods, her face looking sad again. "Of course I've thought about it. I don't have an answer, Loghain. I'm learning that trying to plot the course of my life always seems to backfire. I'll deal with whatever comes up, the best I can."

"Of course, you will." There was so much more he wanted to say, but the time wasn't right. It never seemed to be right.

She picked up a rock fragment and threw it into the forest. "What are you going to do next?" she asked.

"I'll help you out with things here as long as I'm able, if you wish. I imagine sooner or later Anora will need me to do something for her, so at least I'll be close to Denerim."

She smiled broadly. "I'd love that, Loghain. It'll be good to have a friend here."

Her enthusiasm seemed genuine. She had been lonely.

"How do you get by, leaving your Teyrn so much of the time," she asked.

"I have a very capable seneschal I trust. Between Howe and your seneschal you could probably leave running the arling to them."

She nodded. "Yes, although I have some plans for introducing democratic reforms." Her face became animated as she talked about it. "I'm going to have the citizens in the arling elect judges and when people commit crimes they'll be tried by their peers."

Loghain looked at her. _What was she babbling on about? _"Tried by peers? You're going to leave it up to their friends to determine their guilt or innocence?"

She shook her head. "No. It'll be a selection of people without any association to the plaintiff and defendant. They'll hear the evidence and decide the cases. It is modeled after the justice system in my world."

"Lucy… you might want to take changes like that slowly. They are bound to ruffle feathers. These things are very bound by tradition."

She frowned. "All right, but I'm definitely going to see that there are some changes made. You and Nathaniel can tell me if I'm going too far or too fast, but things need to change. This arling could serve as a template for all Ferelden and someday Ferelden will be the first true democracy." Her eyes sparkled with intensity as she spoke.

He watched her animatedly explaining how democracy worked and his scowl deepened. Fate had delivered them from the archdemon and now Lucy threatened to wreck the very fabric of Ferelden society. Even if this political system she was proposing worked, it could spark unrest in other parts of the country.

"We need to discuss this further. Your ideas could destabilize the country. While I don't disagree with you, I would imagine such things happen in gradual stages."

She frowned. "Well… yes I suppose you're right. I've seen democracy go wrong and become corrupt. Perhaps the first step is educating the population. '_Democracy demands an educated and informed electorate.' _Someone said that. Printing presses, definitely. Freedom of the press, Loghain! You mustn't throw people in prison for expressing their opinions, even if you don't like them."

"Lucy…" he shook his head.

She took in his sour expression and her enthusiasm waned. "All right, I get it. Baby steps."

"Check with Anora before doing anything too radical." He smiled at her, glad she saw reason, but there was still a resistant little nugget of glee twinkling in her eyes. He reached over and took her hand. "Please…"

She jumped up and hugged him impulsively. "Yes, my soon-to-be, hopefully, liege." She pecked him on the cheek with a kiss. "Should we return? I still have a lot to do before we leave for the Deep Roads tomorrow."

"As you wish."

They began collecting the remains of their lunch and repacking them while discussing this trip into the Deep Roads. Then she transformed into the big dappled gray mare with the black mane that had kidnapped him over a year ago.

They went home at a more leisurely pace; Loghain wasn't in a hurry to end the ride.

_~o~o~o~_

The next day the Wardens assembled outside the keep before the sun had even risen, and said their goodbyes. Loghain stood holding Daniel while Iveta hovered nearby. Lucy looked sadly at her son, obviously feeling gloomy at yet another parting. Loghain felt sorry for her; such leave-takings had been hard for him, for a woman it would be doubly so. And in her position… it was a dangerous job. Some day she might not return. He resolved to discuss options with her for leaving the Wardens. Surely the Weisshaupt Wardens couldn't exercise that much control over the Ferelden Wardens. There were always pressures Anora and Alistair could apply, including the threat of expelling the Wardens again…

Well, it was a topic for another day.

He and Daniel watched Lucy and the other Wardens trot off down the road. He waved one last time as she turned in her saddle and blew them a kiss.

"Maker watch over you," he murmured. Then he turned and went back into the keep. He hoped to accomplish a lot while Lucy was gone.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__This chapter wanted to skew off into crazy directions and I had to rein things in. As I was getting deeply into Lucy's desire to reform the hell out of Ferelden politics I thought about how that would threaten things. Fortunately Loghain realizes this. I think if anyone would be receptive, he would be, but he also realizes that it would be very destabilizing. We certainly have a lot of examples of that in our modern world. _

_Reviewers are like pie inside an ice cream cake topped with whipped cream, kind of like a dessert turducken. I really appreciate you, in fact, you are what keep me writing when I'm really tempted to go play another video game instead. My thanks to my faithful reviewers! If you haven't reviewed, I'd love to hear from you!_

_Biff is also dessert turducken for beta-reading__! Zevgirl is too for her encouragement, feedback and pictures of extremely handsome men._


	14. How to Provision for the Deep Roads

**Lucy**

It was never easy with Justice along. Outside of his black and white perspective of just about everything, he was… to be blunt, dead and decaying. Anders was doing his utmost to slow down the inevitable, but I knew someday the J-man was going to swing that sword of his and it would just go flying off. I simply hoped it didn't take one of us out when it happened.

Even though Nathaniel had worked with the horses and Justice, they never really liked him. We'd barely gotten out of sight of the keep when Justice's mare, a normally docile beast, more interested in eating oats then galloping, began to rebel. She started to buck and sidle sideways, trying to get away from the dead thing on her back. Nathaniel hopped off his horse and tried to calm the mare, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Justice, get down. Let me see if I can calm her," Nathaniel said, holding the mare by the reins while he dismounted.

I leaned over to Anders and whispered. "Do you think he's going to be able to hold together much longer?"

He grinned at me and shrugged. "I've been giving him salt water infusions in his veins and recommending that he take a long brine bath every night. Magically, I've slowed the decay by quite a lot but there's only so much you can do."

I shook my head. "Well, this is quite the _pickle__._"

Anders snorted, trying to conceal his amusement at my pun. "No one ever told me part of my job as a Warden would be pickling one of my brothers. Maker _preserve _him."

I snorted in a very unladylike manner and my eyes stung with tears at the stupid puns. Anders always could get me to laughing.

"Too bad we can't just laminate him," I commented.

Nathaniel got Justice to stand off a way and tried to calm the mare when he approached, but she just wasn't going to tolerate the dead man on her back this day.

"Well," I finally admitted, not much happier than the balky mare at the thought, "I guess I can be Justice's transport." I dismounted and we had to swap horses around. Only Nathaniel's saddle was big enough to fit me. His horse would be a spare, he could ride Justice's balky mare and Justice would ride… _Maker…_me.

I transformed. None of the Wardens had ever seen my horse form, except Oghren.

Harrison went big-eyed. "Maker…" he said breathily. "You really do look like a horse."

"She is a horse for all intents and purposes," Anders said, "except for her mind. That much of her is still her own. Although it is rumored that if one spends too long as an animal they will start to forget they were ever human."

I nodded my head up and down vigorously, remembering how it was in Loghain's stables. I'd needed some intense sessions with Zevran to be reminded of my humanity. Even now thinking of it made me a bit weak in the knees… all four of them.

Justice mounted me; I wished desperately for another term to use, as that one sounded far, far too sexual. I tried to turn off my horse-enhanced sense of smell which was shouting "DEATH AHOY" so loudly it made my skin twitch. I followed the others with the animated slab of meat on my back. Justice wasn't a bad rider, what with being dead and all. I had to admit he was a fierce fighter. He seemed to not feel much, if any, pain. It was an admirable trait in a… a meat shield, but he was still spooky and creepy beyond belief.

We took North Road to Knotwood Hills, which I thought sounded like a pleasant suburban development. I half expected to see colorful plastic banners advertising that the new home models were open. Alas, nothing could be further from the truth. The landscape was dotted with gnarled, dead trees and the evidence of many landslides on the craggy hills. Every now and then we had to detour off the road where a landslide had blocked the road.

_Someone really ought to send out some road crews to clear the damn road, _I thought. Then I realized that the someone who should do that was probably me. _Shit._

The land in the area was strewn with boulders and didn't look very fertile, which might explain the complete lack of farmsteads and civilization.

There was something that this land could support: Sheep and goats. They could eat almost anything and turn it into fur, skin, and protein. The only problem is they tend to cause soil erosion as they eat everything that holds the soil in place. Although agriculture seems like peaceful coexistence with nature at the surface, you rarely have to dig far to find out that this seemingly bucolic existence of farms and farmers, even in this rather primitive civilization, is already disrupting nature on a larger scale than anyone expects. The failed Norse settlement in Greenland during the 13th century on Earth is a testament to how badly an agricultural society can impact a seemingly lush land.

Sometimes I fully recognized that I was responsible, in part, for the health and welfare of a small part of Thedas. My admittedly limited knowledge of human history almost paralyzed me at times. I had to remind myself this civilization was pretty old. They had customs that had served them well and if they were going to repeat all the mistakes of my native civilization at least they had a few more hundred years before they could screw themselves up too badly on a global basis. I just had to make sure my presence amongst them didn't accelerate the process.

Those were some deep thoughts to have in horse form with a dead guy on my back. I nearly tripped over a log I didn't see while I was pondering the countryside.

"Commander?"

I had to give Justice credit, he was certainly polite.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded, horsey style, and tried to find my equine groove.

It wasn't long before we arrived at the big sinkhole the elf in Amaranthine had told us about and, judging by the way my nerves were twitching, we were right on top of a big pile of darkspawn. I stopped and whinnied and the others stopped, too. They dismounted and Justice removed my tack. It's a good thing to do before transforming; otherwise you're likely to be all tangled up in the stuff.

"Ugh, darkspawn," Anders noted.

"Lots of darkspawn, it feels like," Nathaniel added.

"Makes my crotch itch," Oghren said, belching to punctuate.

That comment almost made me transform back into a horse and gallop off, but I did my duty. "Well, we must have an opening into the Deep Roads. I'm not at all surprised." I was glad I had provisioned for a Deep Roads excursion. Plenty of torches, our sleeping rolls, lanterns, and, of course, chocolate. If there was one thing that could ward off the despair that the Deep Roads usually made me feel, it was chocolate.

"Well, here we are!" I shouldered my pack and looked my Wardens in the eye, sounding a lot happier than I was feeling. "A beautiful day for an expedition into the Deep Roads."

"We won't really know anything about the day's beauty or lack thereof shortly," Nathaniel said with a smirk.

"Right, and the day isn't really all that beautiful," Anders remarked. "It's rather cloudy and it looks like it could rain at any moment."

I slapped Anders on the back. "Exactly! A beautiful time to be underground and away from this shitty weather." I hitched up the pack again, thinking I'd rather be up here in pounding rain than down there with all those things making Oghren's crotch itch. "Onward!" I said, sounding far, far perkier than I felt.

We walked down a rickety scaffolding and Nathaniel looked decidedly nervous. He told a tale of falling when he was a child, or maybe being pushed. I wasn't paying close attention because he had a point. The wood was rotted in places and the whole structure was shaky. The darkspawn weren't very good woodworkers apparently.

We were just barely inside the Deep Roads when we spotted a group of darkspawn dragging off a dwarven woman.

"Nate, shoot her if it looks like they're going to get away with her," I told him.

He looked at me as if I were insane.

"Trust me. It's better than what awaits her."

He shrugged and then we charged the group. My precaution was, thankfully, unnecessary; we beat the group of darkspawn easily. The dwarven woman got loose and fought with us. She was obviously an experienced fighter. Legion, most likely, I decided from her armor.

When the last of the darkspawn had died, I wiped my hand off on my leggings. "Lucy Cousland, Warden Commander of Ferelden. And you are?"

She smiled and I instantly liked her. There was something so open and friendly in her face - dare I say…perky?

"Sigrun, of the Legion of Dead." She stuck out her hand and grasped my own.

She was going to run off on her own to the dwarven ruins within, which she called Kal'Hirol, and kill as many darkspawn as possible before dying… or dying again. But I reasoned with her that we could kill an awful lot more if we teamed up. She agreed and admitted we were all probably going to be dead anyway.

She had a point… either her Legion were just bad fighters or else there were an awful lot of darkspawn inside. Granted we're Grey Wardens, so we kick darkspawn butt better than most, but the Legion are awesome fighters, too. I wasn't feeling too cheery after talking with her awhile. I was glad Loghain was at the Vigil. If I didn't return… If I didn't return, he would take Danny. He knew better than anyone what my wishes were for him, even if he didn't always understand or agree with them.

As we went further in we passed the remains of her Legion fellows and one of them died in her arms. I thought he was either a very close friend or perhaps a lover. It was very tragic, but it redoubled her determination to forge ahead and find her own death. It made me realize how sick the Legion of the Dead were. They were elevating suicide by darkspawn to a hero status. Of course, now that I thought about it, the Grey Wardens did the same. If Avernus was right, though, none of us would ever have to face that.

In short order, Sigrun proved her worth. She guided us away from the front entrance to the thaig, that was how her Legion had met their deaths. We hunted around and eventually found a secretive side entrance. We were glad we did, the entrance was not only filled with traps, but lots of darkspawn. My hopes were raised; perhaps we would survive this adventure.

~o~o~o~

A full day we pushed into the thaig, gaining ground slowly. At times it seemed like the darkspawn were doing our work for us; we came across what looked like two groups of darkspawn fighting each other. How bizarre! We held back and just watched them kill each other off. The few survivors were easily mopped up.

We made camp in an area we had thoroughly cleansed of darkspawn and posted two guards at a time. Anders and I had the first watch. I'd arranged it that way. He looked just terrible. I was growing more concerned about him. For a while now he looked bone weary during the day, but he wouldn't discuss it with me. I assumed the darkspawn dreams were plaguing him. But Anders was a master of sleep remedies, as I'd experienced myself. Why wouldn't he just fix himself up with something?

Ever since coming to Kal'Hirol, he'd looked even worse. I could see the exhaustion and stress written plainly on his face. I'd pushed him away and had tried not to show my affection for him. It tore at me now; I so wanted to put my arms around him and coax his worries from him. I wanted to soothe his cares, kiss the worry lines off his forehead, and sing him to sleep.

I thought withdrawing from Anders would squelch these urges, like going cold-turkey on eating sugar. Eventually those cravings subside but these hadn't lessened. If anything I was feeling closer than ever to him. I felt a sort of peacefulness when he was near. Even my terrifying nightmares, which I rarely remembered but often awoke me with a pounding heart and tears on my face, were diminishing. The first thing I thought of most mornings was Anders. He was the sun to me in a very cloudy time.

I vowed that I would get to the bottom of whatever was bothering him. When everyone else was sleeping I joined him at the fire and sat close to him so I could speak quietly. He was staring vacantly into the fire, in a trance-like state.

"Can we talk a moment?" I asked, cautiously.

He snapped out of his trance but continued to gaze into the flames. "Of course." His answer was short and completely lacked his usual good-natured banter.

"What's wrong, Anders? You're just not yourself." I stared at the side of his face, willing him to meet my eyes.

He smiled slightly. "It's this place. Dark, creepy… all that rock. It reminds me a little too much of the prison cells under the tower. That whole experience turned me off of underground places." He finally turned to meet my eyes. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

I shook my head and couldn't prevent myself from taking his hand in my own. "You're not fine. You're exhausted and completely stressed out. What's going on?"

He shrugged. "I'm all right."

_Oh fine, be all stoic on me, macho man._ Well, whatever it was, he wasn't going to tell me. I could at least help him to relax a little. "I think I know what might help." I got up and went to where I piled up my gear and rummaged through my backpack and pulled out a carefully wrapped package and a box of spice tea.

I dug out a pair of mugs and filled them with steaming hot water from my hands and handed them to Anders along with the box of tea. "Brew us some tea, would you? I think there's some sugar in my bag."

I carefully unfolded the cloth from around my very special package and inhaled the fragrance. The dark, heady odor of chocolate was truly relaxing, while the cinnamon and spice smell from the tea made a pungent counterpoint.

I scooted over next to where Anders was quietly brewing the tea and held up the chocolate for him to smell. He inhaled it deeply, holding my wrist so I wouldn't draw it away prematurely. He knew, as I had taught him, that smelling chocolate was the important first step to eating the chocolate.

He finally withdrew his nose from the thick, dark-brown slab and I could see the beginnings of a genuine smile. "You're trying to get me hooked on this drug of yours, aren't you?"

I chuckled quietly. "This is a very minor sin. It is a tiny indulgence that can bring a few moments of bliss in an otherwise bleak day."

When the tea was ready I cut off a chunk of the chocolate for each of us, wondering how long this trip would take and if there was enough chocolate to last us. I was almost ashamed at how I had taken chocolate for granted in my life on earth. Here it was a truly rare prize. One only the wealthy could afford.

We silently and companionably ate our chocolate, letting it melt slowly in the mouth, and keeping our little moans of ecstasy as quiet as we could. If any of our companions heard the moaning and the slurping of tea, they might assume something other than what was.

"I miss Marigold," Anders stated after he finished his tea. "A soft, furry creature could take away some of the oppressiveness of this place."

I smiled slyly. "Well, I can't replace Marigold entirely but…"

It had been a while since I'd shifted into tiger form but I was game to try. I gathered my magic and shifted. It worked, although I thought I might be a bit on the small size for a tiger. Anders gave a little yelp of surprise. Had I forgotten to mention I could do this?

"Ummm… well, you're a little bigger than Marigold."

I chuffled, which is a friendly tiger noise, but if you're not used to tigers it is probably a little intimidating. He jumped nervously. "I didn't mean that as an insult. There's absolutely nothing wrong with your size whatsoever."

I chuffled again and closed the distance between us, lying down beside him. It wasn't long before his hand tentatively stroked my fur.

"Maker… whatever sort of cat this is, it certainly has a soft, thick coat. Can you imagine wearing something like this?"

I snarled softly in response, but lengthened out and turned so the fire would warm my belly. I'd forgotten how comfortable tiger form was. Yes, I could imagine what wearing that fur was like. It was quite plush and lovely.

"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. Such a magnificent animal, it would be a crime to hunt them for their fur." He chattered softly and stroked me.

It sounded like he was finally relaxing a little. I felt like I had succeeded, even if I hadn't figured out what was bothering him so much that he wasn't sleeping. I had decided that sometimes when you're in charge you have to become a parent to those you supervise. We adults are really only large children. We still need someone to nurture us, kiss our boo-boos, bolster our self-confidence, and balance our world view when it gets too out-of-whack. Although, the sort of leading I did, I couldn't be too motherly, that would be insulting. I had to be sly about it. Right now, I was a proxy for a beloved kitten. Hopefully, Anders wouldn't think too closely about exactly who he was stroking, and I wouldn't think too hard about it either.

We spent the remainder of the evening sitting quietly by the fire. There was no trouble from the darkspawn, fortunately. When the time came, we awoke Nathaniel and Oghren for the next watch. I stayed in tiger form because it felt so pleasant. I laid down on my bedroll and watched Anders watching me. It was almost like he was waiting for me to fall asleep but I outlasted him. It wasn't long before his eyes closed and I could hear his regular breathing. Since we were unground there was no need for tents. There was a little distance between bedrolls, but we were all close enough you could reach out and touch the next person over.

I finally drifted off into a cat nap. I wasn't sure exactly how long I'd been asleep before I heard Anders stirring restlessly. I opened my eyes and saw Justice sitting by the fire. It must be his turn for the watch now. I could smell the fear coming from Anders with my tiger-enhanced sense of smell. It must have been a nightmare disturbing him. No one else was awake, so I padded over to him and lay down next to him.

So many times Zevran's presence in bed with me had reassured me when the bad dreams had come after Riordan died. I hoped my presence might reassure Anders. He woke up a little and threw an arm over me and tried to pull me closer, but I was a 200 pound tigress; he wasn't going to budge me, so I squiggled a little closer, trying not to crush him. I heard a contented sigh and then his breathing told me he'd fallen asleep again.

When I awoke in the morning Anders was sprawled all over me like I was some sort of body pillow. I carefully tried to untangle myself from him and go back to my own bedroll before the others awoke, but I woke him in the process.

"Thanks, Lucy," he whispered to me as he stroked my ear.

I went back to my bedroll and transformed. Even though I missed my plush exterior, I fell asleep and snoozed a bit longer. Finally the stirring of the camp woke me up. We ate a quick, cold breakfast and pushed our way further into the thaig.

**Anders**

It alternated between crushingly small corridors, liberally bedecked in unnaturally large webs, and large, inky, open spaces inhabited by the ghosts of those long dead.

_What's not to like about this place?_ Anders thought, shivering in the unnaturally still, stale air.

Last night he was back in the dungeon under the Circle tower. It had been dug out, under the lake. Of course, water can't be denied; it always sought to regain lost territory and it did in small leaks and dribbles, seeping through walls and ensuring all the lowest points of the dungeon were constantly damp.

That's where they'd thrown him.

"_Let's see how long until he makes a deal with a demon."_

The templars actually were actually placing bets on him. They stripped him and left him for days without food or clean water. So, if he didn't like dark, unground places, perhaps it wasn't so unreasonable. What made it worse was the thinness of the Veil. After so much cold, pain, and starvation you started to hear the residents of the other side and their whispers. Over the weeks and months they became more real and more comforting than anything on this side. So many times he'd nearly succumbed, given in to the promise of warmth, peace, freedom from hunger, but the mocking of the templars would pierce the fantasy and he'd stubbornly refused to give in. He'd rather die of chilblains than let one of these bastards win their bet.

He was in the depths of a dream about the last year he'd spent in that pit of despair. The lash of a whip was licking across his shoulders when a soft, comforting presence nuzzled the side of his face. Something warm, wet and rough slid across his cheek and a soft, opulent presence pressed against him. He awoke to see Lucy, in that massive cat form, lying next to him. He buried his face into her heavy fur coat and soon found himself asleep, the nightmares banished.

As he'd done for her so many nights, she was now doing for him.

_~o~o~o~_

Clicking, crunching mandibles became the new nightmare. They'd barely managed to save Nathaniel from a mass of what appeared to be larval darkspawn. Half maggot, half darkspawn – could anyone dream up a more horrific creature? A chunk of flesh had been ripped out of Nate's thigh. It had taken intense healing to mend the damage and it stalled them for the remainder of the day to get him back on his feet.

The next day it was Lucy's turn. The creatures swarmed her, seeming to come from nowhere. She uttered a short, terrified scream and disappeared under them. The last sight Anders had of her, she was pushed to her knees, then onto her front as they overwhelmed her. Then she was lost of that pulsating mass of insectile darkspawn.

"Lucy!" He stopped dead in his tracks. Suppressing panic, he unleashed flames and fried as many of them as he could while Justice and Oghren attacked them as well. When they got to the bottom of the pile they found Lucy was mostly unharmed but she'd had the breath squeezed out of her.

She struggled to her feet and collapsed against a rock, trying to draw a breath. Her hands were shaking and tears were rolling down her face. "Can't breathe!" she gasped. If she was wounded, it wasn't obvious what the wound was.

Fighting back panic, Anders recollected that she had said she was allergic to darkspawn. He remembered hearing people who were asphyxiated for no apparent reason other than some strange inflammation of their airways. He put his hands on her and searched, looking for the source of her affliction.

_There! _He poured healing magic into her, calming the inflammation and reopening her constricted passages. To think, she could have suffocated down here where there was plenty of air, however dank and stale it was. Perhaps it was partially due to the emotional stress of nearly being eaten alive by those things, but her body also reacted badly to something about the darkspawn. He silently thanked Andraste that he'd been able to save her.

"Thanks, all of you." Lucy shuddered and took the backpack off her back. It had been sliced apart by the mandibles of the grub-like darkspawn, rendering it mostly useless. She opened it and removed everything.

"It looks like that backpack saved your life, Commander," Nathaniel commented.

She nodded. Everything she pulled out of it was covered in slime. One item in particular had been ravaged. Anders barely recognized it until she opened it: It was the chocolate. It had been liberally coated in slime and he could see bite marks in it.

"They ate my chocolate!" she wailed. She dropped it in disgust to the floor. They heard more skittering sounds.

"More are coming!" Justice called out, drawing his greatsword again. "Prepare yourselves."

Call it instinct, or a lucky guess, but Anders picked up the fouled chocolate and threw it several yards from the party. The skittering grew louder and the grub-creatures descended upon it, ignoring them completely.

The party of Wardens killed the grubs easily from a distance.

"They smelled the chocolate? That's what they were after?" Lucy sighed and picked up what items hadn't been totally ruined and tried to put them into her torn backpack, but they just fell out of a rip in the bottom. She picked up a bottle of poison and looked at it quizzically. "We need a roach motel." She began to laugh hysterically.

"Commander?" Nathaniel said. His look plainly said he thought she had finally broken under the pressure.

"No, seriously! We poison some chocolate, they'll carry it back to their nest! We can poison the whole lot of them!"

Nathaniel nodded. "I suppose it might work, if we get the dosing just right. It can't kill them immediately. There isn't enough chocolate though, is there?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, but they might have a sweet tooth. Anything sweet or starchy we have they might go after."

They all went through their packs and took out bread, cakes, sugar, anything that might be appealing to the darkspawn vermin. Both Nathaniel and Lucy carried poison which they used to soak the pile of carbohydrates.

"Back home we had ants. Some of them liked sweets, some liked protein, and others preferred fats. Usually they'd eat whatever they could find, but they had definite preferences. You could make a sort of bait by combining their favorite food with a slow acting poison. They carry back to the colony and share it with the rest and, hopefully, the whole colony is destroyed.

"Roaches are sort of the same. They're cannibalistic, too. So when one dies other roaches come and feast on the body. If that body happens to be laced with poison… well, it is a gift that keeps on giving."

They'd barely finished creating the pile of poisonous food when they heard rapid skittering again. Nathaniel found a place where they could stand, up a rock outcropping, and watch the vermin. They began to feed noisily on the pile of food they had left. The pile diminished quickly and the pests began to leave, although they were definitely not scurrying as quickly. Anders guessed they were feeling a little poorly.

"Well, here's hoping they carry it back to a nest somewhere and share it, or that their friends are cannibals." Lucy smiled, wanly. She still looked a little upset after having been swarmed.

"Are you all right to continue on?" Anders asked her.

She nodded her head vigorously. "The sooner we get away from these things the better."

They collected the remains of Lucy's gear and distributed it between their packs and forged further into the ruins. Lucy seemed to jump every time there was a noise that sounded like those little legs and claws scrabbling across the floor. Anders stayed close to her, hoping his presence helped at least a little.

This day went like the last from that point on. There were always more darkspawn to kill, but now at least the vermin had been reduced. Lucy's _roach motel_ had worked.

They found riches in this abandoned thaig and carried as much as they could. That, at least, made Lucy happy. The money would be used to pay the staff and soldiers, she told them.

That evening's meal was none too satisfying. They'd left the bread and sugar behind, in a poisoned pile, so all they had were some dried vegetables, roots and dried meat. Still, it was better than nothing. They still had a lot of pemmican, as Lucy called it. It was dried meat, usually venison or beef, ground into powder and mixed with duck fat and dried berries. Not great tasting, but it kept them going on these expeditions.

Lucy took the second watch and Sigrun volunteered to stand watch with her. Anders ended up with the first watch. When Lucy went to clean up for the night, he waited for a quiet moment and took the dwarf woman aside.

"Any chance I can change watches with you?" Anders asked.

Sigrun looked up at Anders face, a grin spilling across it. "Ah, so you want to stand watch with the Commander? Hmmm… do the Wardens allow fraternization?" Her tone was teasing and light. "The Legion frowned on that, but it never stopped anyone."

"Well, it's just… I want to keep an eye her. That business with the darkspawn today… Purely professional, of course." Anders drew himself up and tried to look as doctor-ish as possible. "A relapse is always a possibility."

The cheeky dwarf grinned at him and slapped him on the back. "You betcha, doctor. She looks like she could relapse at any moment." She walked away giggling.

Anders chided himself for being so transparent. Who didn't know he had a thing for the commander now? Oghren probably didn't care. Nathaniel certainly knew. Justice… hard to say really; would he even care?

Anders laid down and tried to sleep but he couldn't shut his mind off. He thought of the sight of Lucy disappearing under those darkspawn grubs and the utter terror that had gripped him. _What if they had…_ He couldn't complete the thought. _It didn't happen._ He tried to imagine being a Warden without her there. He would hate it.

He turned over and pulled his covers up around his head and peeked at the commander's bedroll. She was just lying down, shifting around, trying to get comfortable. She got situated on her back and he heard her sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath all day. Then she shifted onto her side and the light reflected from her eyes; she was looking at him. He smiled, just in case she could see he closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Before long, he didn't have to pretend.

_~o~o~o~_

"Wake up, Twitch," a booted foot prodded his mid-section. "Your watch."

Anders groaned and got up. He pulled on his robe and equipped his staff and dagger. Lucy's bedroll was already empty. "Sleep well, Oghren." He went over to the fire and found her sitting there, staring pensively into it and sharpening her dagger.

"Thanks for saving me today, Anders."

"No need to thank me, I was just doing my job."

She smiled wearily.

"Did you get some sleep?" he asked.

"A little. You?"

Their conversation was stilted and awkward. "Some." He stared into the fire alongside her. "The darkspawn…"

"They seem quiet tonight. Kind of far away." She finished his thought.

"Yes. Quite far away."

A silence fell between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but he searched his brain for topics of conversation. Suddenly his mouth seemed to work without his brain's permission. "Why did you lie to me about that dream?"

_Sweet Maker did I just say that?_ Yes, it was something that had been on his mind for weeks, but he'd never intended to say something… especially not like this!

"Uh…" Lucy shifted uncomfortably. "Which dream was that?" She stared steadfastly into the fire, not looking at him.

Whatever rogue element had lobbed the impulse into his brain, it certainly wasn't about to back down now. "Stop pretending, Lucy. We both know. Why do you pretend it didn't happen? I know what we both felt there and it wasn't just within the dream. There is something between us and ignoring it isn't going to make it go away."

"It might," she said in a very small voice. She continued staring into the fire, refusing to meet his eyes.

_Andraste's knickers! The woman was impossible._ He deserved a better answer than that. His frustration boiled over. He moved closer to her, taking her chin in his hand and turning her head so that she had to meet his eyes. "That's not an acceptable answer."

Something about the way the firelight reflected off the inky depths of her eyes, the way her breath caught when he touched her, he wasn't about to throw away the opportunity. He drew her face closer to his, gently tugging her closer with his fingers under her chin. She could pull away, but she didn't. He closed the final few inches between them and their lips met, almost chastely, but it was a kiss.

There was a pause, a brief moment when they both seemed to try to grasp what this kiss meant. She hadn't drawn away. Then she did. Just an inch or so, but her eyes were on his. They seemed brimming with unasked questions, even fear. She was over-thinking, he could tell. _Stop thinking, Lucy. Just be._ He wrapped his hand around the back of her, closing the gap between their lips once more.

This time she gave in to it. Her mouth relaxed under his and she gave a little breathy sigh, like a signal of surrender. It was just as it had been in the Fade. Everything from her scent - lavender from the soap she'd used to scrub off the darkspawn slime - to the way she nibbled gently at his bottom lip, reliving that dream they'd shared a few weeks ago. There was no denying this, at least.

The kiss broke off gently and she withdrew. Personal space restored, she stared into the fire again. "This route can only take us to an unhappy destination, Anders." She frowned into the fire.

"What?" His frustration with her began to grow. "Why do you say that? I _know_ you share my feelings. What is stopping you?"

She looked so sad and pained when she looked at him, he almost thought she might cry. "I do care about you, far more than I should. If we were together it would be even worse…"

Anders frowned. "Worse… well, thanks for that."

"And if… no, _when _Zevran returns, I'd have to end it between us. Do you want that hanging over your head?"

"Let me worry about that. I'm willing to live in the present and let tomorrow be damned. We'll deal with it when it happens."

"You don't understand! It would tear me in two. I would have to let one of you go and… I couldn't do that to Zevran."

Anders picked up her hand and kissed it. "All I know is this feels so right to me. Ever since that night when we found each other in the Fade, I haven't wanted anyone else."

Lucy's hand turned and she caressed his jaw, rubbing the ample stubble that was growing longer in their time in the Deep Roads. "Being rash and imprudent is so much easier when you know your death is a certainty." She smiled, although it was tinged with sadness. "The things I justified, knowing I was going to become dragon chow in the end… I almost miss having such excuses, but I'm a mother now and people actually depend on me. I can't pretend there won't be painful consequences."

He pulled her closer, so she was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder. "All right, there will be consequences, there always are, but we'll deal with them, Lucy." His hand glided over her hair and down the braid that was still damp from her bath. "I've nearly lost you twice. Once to that damned Wolf and today to those darkspawn grubs. I couldn't stand by and not tell you how I feel."

She drew a deep breath and it came out in a sigh. "Think this over, Anders. Take some time to consider what happens if Zevran returns. I need some time to think, too. We'll talk again when we get back to the keep. In the meantime, we need to stay focused on getting out of this place alive." She looked into his eyes for a moment. "We probably shouldn't stand watch together."

He leaned closer, his lips hovering over hers. "Then I suppose this kiss will have to last us awhile," he said softly. He kissed her, this time not holding back on the intensity he felt. Everything he had been feeling for her, since… well, really it had all started when they'd met. Her mouth opened under his and her hands grasped his arms as she held onto him. A small, nearly inaudible, moan let him know she was also feeling everything he felt.

Her expression was softer, less sad, as she pulled away this time. She disentangled herself and patted her hair into place then stood. "I think it's time to wake the next watch."

"I'll do it," he offered. "Get some rest." He reached for her hand, but she pulled away from him.

"Uh uh, recruit," she said, suddenly becoming the commander. "We'll discuss this further at the keep. Meanwhile… just keep your mind on the task at hand." She turned away and walked to their sleeping area.

Anders smiled as he watched her. He stretched and started toward where the next watch was sleeping when he saw a pair of eyes reflecting firelight. He recognized Sigrun's pigtails peeking out from under her blankets. She winked broadly at him and then turned over.

_Bloody Andraste!_ _There is no privacy here. _He woke Nathaniel and Justice for the next watch. Then he found his own bedroll and laid down, feeling more contented than he had felt in ages.

~o~o~o~

The remainder of the trip through the Kal'Hirol took several more days. It culminated in the horror of seeing brood mothers for the first time, and a battle with an unnaturally large golem – not that there was anything exactly natural about a golem. Anders swore they'd all die, and him so close to having the woman he'd been obsessing over for so long, it was horribly unfair. But they emerged from the bowels of the earth, worn, injured, and blinking in the bright daylight.

They paused to get used to sunlight and open air again. Lucy slumped against a rock, closed her eyes, Anders saw her lips moving, like she was saying a silent thanks. He sat next to her on the rock and surreptitiously took her hand. "We made it," he said quietly.

A hint of a smile crossed her lips briefly and she squeezed his hand. "That we did." She stood up and turned to the other Wardens. "Let's get the hell home!" (Lucy had taught them the concept of hell one night while they were having a few ales.)

A cheer went up from all of them. "Hell, yeah!" Anders shouted.

The horses wanted to fly home; foraging in Knotwood Hills hadn't been fun for them. Justice's mare even obliged the corpse on her back.

Anders went over his talk with Lucy in the Deep Roads. She said to think it over, to consider what would happen if her lover returned from Antiva. But what were the odds? The guy went there to wipe out a whole bunch of other assassins just like him. Either he would have to be crazy lucky, or have crazy skills to survive, probably both. Chances were he wasn't coming back. But Lucy thought he would return. Maybe she just said that to keep her morale up. Perhaps she wasn't ready to face the reality that he's already dead.

He tried to think it through, but his mind wandered off to imagining what it would be like at the keep. Would she change her mind? Would they become lovers right away or should he court her properly? Perhaps he should go to Amaranthine and buy her a gift. What would she like? Maybe an Orlesian silk scarf to go with that new red dress she had. But what color? He began to worry over it. What did he know of colors and fashion? Maybe he could ask someone else. Sigrun? No, she probably knew nothing of human fashions. He could secretly borrow - all right, steal - Lucy's dress and take it with him to Amaranthine. Then he would find someone to help him pick out a scarf. Perhaps Nathaniel's sister. What was her name again?

He was still musing over an appropriate gift when they arrived back at the keep. His palms were a little sweaty with nervous anticipation. It was ridiculous, really, he hadn't been this nervous about a woman since he was thirteen years old.

He barely noticed the trio of exceptional looking horses in the courtyard, but Lucy and Nathaniel commented on them.

"Nathaniel aren't those…" she pointed at them as they dismounted in the courtyard.

"Paso Finos, I believe," Nathaniel said. "They look similar to you when you're a… horse."

The blood drained out of Lucy's face. "Antivan horses… Maker! Nathaniel would you see to my horse?" She didn't even wait for a response; she dismounted and ran toward the keep.

"Mine too, Nate. Thanks." Anders dismounted quickly and at least took the time to hand the reins to Nathaniel. Then he ran after Lucy, to hear a snippet of her questioning a guard.

"… they arrived just a few hours ago. Varel told them he expected you any day. Oh yes, Teyrn Loghain left for some business in Amaranthine yesterday. I believe he means to return tomorrow."

Lucy nodded. She turned to Anders, her face looking ashen. "Well, I suppose I should go in." Reaching for the door handle, her hand froze. She seemed unable to open it.

Anders reached out and opened the door for her. "I'm right here, Lucy. Whatever it is, I'll be here."

She nodded and let her breath out in a gasp. "All right. Let's see what they want. Maybe it has nothing to do with…" Her voice trailed off.

Anders nodded and they walked in together. Varel and Garevel were in the great hall and three Antivans were with them.

"He's not there," she whispered to Anders. "Oh Maker."

"Ah, it looks like the commander has returned, gentlemen," Varel said. He took Lucy aside and spoke quietly to her. "Would you like me to put them off until tomorrow? We've already found rooms for them, they'll be staying the night anyway."

Lucy said nothing but shook her head. "No… it's all right. I'll meet with them now."

Varel nodded and led her into the great hall. "Gentlemen, the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Lucy Cousland."

One of the men approached her, holding an ornate wooden box in his hand. "My master, Ignacio, sends his greetings and a message for you. He regrets he could not come in person, but events in Antiva require his attention."

"Master Ignacio…" Lucy croaked out his name. She seemed at a loss for words.

"This box, my lady, it is for you," the Antivan handed her an ornate box.

She took it from him, even at the distance he maintained, Anders could see her hands trembling. She held it a moment staring at it, and then opened it. He could hear her breath sharply indrawn as she reached in and took something out. A chain with a small vial, a Grey Warden amulet, dangled in her hand. She closed her eyes a moment and then opened them.

"Thank Master Ignacio for me," she said simply.

"He sent a message, my lady. It is inside the box," the Antivan said.

Lucy nodded mutely. Closing the box, grasping the amulet, she turned toward the stairs. "I'm going to retire early, Varel. I'm not feeling well." She nearly stumbled on the first step. Her tread was heavy as she climbed the stairs.

Varel watched her a moment then turned to Anders. "What is it? Is she ill?"

Anders frowned, wondering if he should say anything. Surely Varel could be trusted to be discrete. "I think she just had word that someone very close to her has died."

"Maker's mercy," Varel said, shaking his head. "That woman has been through enough, hasn't she?"

Anders nodded gravely. "She has. I'll go up and make sure she's all right."

He followed up her up the stairs, a pace behind at first, then when he was afraid she might fall, he walked beside her, and arm around her middle to hold her up. She said nothing, just stared at her feet, as if willing them to take the next step, and then the next. When they came to her door she just stopped, so he opened it and she went in.

Anders guided her to her bedroom and got her seated on a sofa where she sat, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. The room was cold so he went to the fireplace and built up a fire.

She stirred a little, as if brought back by the warmth. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Just sit still, Lucy, I'll get some hot tea brought up." He scurried out the door and flagged down the closest servant and asked for hot tea, chamomile, hops and valerian for their soothing properties, and some light snacks. Then he dashed back and found Lucy hadn't left the sofa.

"I need to see my son," she said. Then she gasped and tears flowed for the first time. "Zevran never met him." She sobbed so hard they started to sound like hiccups.

Anders sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into him. "I'm so sorry, Lucy." He felt a crushing guilt. Her lover's death was his gain. Now there was nothing, well… little, to stand in the way of their own budding relationship. So why did it feel so terrible? Of course, it was a devastating loss to the woman he… he cared for a great deal. Now he just wanted to do whatever he could to console her. He was terrible at this sort of thing. Should he give her privacy or stay with her?

Lucy burrowed her face into his shoulder and cried. "I miss him. Oh, Maker. I have missed him so much. Now he isn't coming back. I didn't deserve him."

"Shush, Lucy, don't say that," he tried to calm her.

Eventually the sobbing subsided and she straightened up, rubbing her eyes with her hands. "I'll be okay. I should take a bath and then see Daniel. He can't see me like this." The mention of her son's name seemed to strengthen her.

"I should go then," he offered.

"No!" She pulled away sounding almost panicky at the thought of being alone. "I mean… can you go to the sitting room and leave the door open? Talk to me." She wrapped her arms around her torso and shivered. "I don't want to be alone."

He leaned over her and kissed her forehead gently. "I'll do whatever you need me to do. I'm not going anywhere, Lucy."

At that moment there was a polite knock at her door and a servant bustled in with snacks and the hot tea Anders ordered. He had her set it down by the bathtub and he poured a cup for Lucy. "Drink that. Doctor's orders, this time."

She picked up the mug and took a sip while he walked into the sitting room. From there, he heard the sound of the tub filling from her hands. "Talk, Anders," her voice floated out to him.

"All right." _What about? _"Do you want to talk about him? You could tell me about him."

"No. I can't yet… Just tell me about your childhood."

"Oh right. Well, I was born at a very young age…" _Hmmm… stupid jokes are probably not appropriate either. _"In the Anderfels, actually. We lived there until I was about five, I think. Then my parents emigrated to Ferelden."

"Why?" Lucy asked.

"The Anderfels is a lousy place for farming and my parents were farmers. Even after hundreds of years much of the land was still blighted. They eat a lot of fish and game there. There are places that seemed to endure the Blight better. Really ancient forests, for instance. Although the darkspawn burnt down a lot of them. They're not terribly appreciative of nature, are they?"

He heard Lucy splashing as she washed herself. "No," she answered. "They suck."

"Yes. Yes, they do. Anyway, my parents moved us to Ferelden and we bought a little farm. We were pretty happy and prospering. All that good kind of stuff. Until my magic manifested, then things got rocky." As he was telling the story he realized it was a particularly poor story to tell right now. It did not have a happy ending.

"Ah!" he said. "I just remembered a far better story. We convinced some of the apprentices we could hex them with donkey ears. Of course, we couldn't, but we had some of them convinced we could. It was one of my more elaborate pranks."

Anders prattled on about some of the better times at the tower and listened as she washed and made sparse comments on his stories. He hoped she didn't take too long, he didn't have all that many stories like these. They tended to either become depressing or else salacious.

"All right, come back in, Anders." She was dressed in a simple gown and was drying her hair with one of those fluffy towels she loved so well.

"May I braid your hair?" he asked. "I used to do it for my mother."

She turned to look at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "He liked doing it, too."

"I won't if…"

"No. Do it." She turned her back to him and threw the towel aside.

He picked up her comb and pulled it carefully through her wet hair. Then he divided it into segments at the top of her crown. He concentrated on it, his fingers remembering old patterns. He would do the Orlesian braid his mother preferred to wear. Halfway through it, he saw her shoulders were shaking ever so slightly.

He stopped. "Lucy? Are you all right?"

"It just seems wrong to replace him… Too soon." Her voice was choked with sobs again.

"Do you want me to go?" He resumed braiding her hair and got the last of it neatly put into place. He picked up the leather strip she used to tie it off and twisted it around the end, tying it deftly.

She turned around and looked at him sadly. "Yes. I can't… it feels wrong."

Anders picked up her hands and held them in his own. "It's all right. I understand. The time isn't right for us." His heart felt like it was made out of lead with the admission. "You know where I am when it is time. I'll be here for you, as a friend, or whatever you need."

She nodded. "I know. Thank you, Anders."

He dropped her hands and turned away. He could hear her sobs as he left her room and pulled the door shut behind him. Her sadness had infected him. There was something more he could do for her, he thought. He could make certain she didn't have nightmares tonight.

_~o~o~o_

_**Notes: **__Sorry for the long absence; I got swept into another computer game, Skyrim. I have all kinds of Skyrim stories brewing in my mind. However, this story always draws me back because I love the characters so much. Rest assured, I will finish it. It's all sketched out in my brain, except when the characters do unexpected things._

_My beta-reader, Biff McLaughlin, said she hates me because this is a sad chapter. However, despite that, I love her for beta-reading for me, and being a good Internet buddy. I also appreciate Zevgirl's input and support._

_Thanks for reading, and please review! I enjoy them very much. If you're an anonymous reviewer, consider making a log-in so I can reply to you when you have questions. _


	15. Do Darkspawn Dream of Blighted Sheep?

****_Part of this chapter was inspired by Zevgirl, who loves Nathaniel. :) This is dedicated to her._

**Lucy**

_The restaurant is eerily quiet. It looks like it did the last time I was here, but where are the cars in the parking lot? Where are the customers chatting in the bar? There's a bartender on duty so I walk in and sit at a table, the same table as the last time. Shouldn't they be here?_

_My heart feels like a lump of lead in my chest. I'm going to break down and cry in the middle of the "French Laundry". I thought we'd meet up here, in the Fade. So where are they? I've been stood up by ghosts. _

"_What can I get you, miss?" the bartender asks._

_I shrug. "What sort of drink goes with crushed dreams?"_

_The bartender smiles. "I would recommend a Blood and Sand. Cherry brandy, scotch whiskey…"_

"_Yes. It sounds perfect. I'll have that."_

"_Were you meeting someone here, Madam? Do you want to order for them?"_

"_Did you happen to see a very handsome elf? About my height, pointed ears__,__ an interesting tattoo on the side of his face? Or a man, early 50's, although he really looks younger than that, long dark hair, wind braids on the sides and he has an Orlesian… French accent?"_

"_No, Madam. As you can see, there is no one here but you." He pauses a moment then adds. "And you are quite alone."_

_His last sentence punches me in the gut. I feel like my heart is going to rupture. "You got that right," I whisper._

_The air ripples and I hear a voice. "He's wrong. You're not alone."_

"_Sir! We do not allow materializations in this restaurant without a reservation__."_

"_I had reservations, but I came anyway," the familiar disembodied voice says._

"_Anders?" I look around me, recognizing the voice. There's a lightning bolt from nowhere and the bartender crumples into a burning, faintly porky__-__smelling pile. Then I see him. He's dressed in modern earth clothes. He looks a bit like a rock star with stylishly faded jeans, a black stretch fabric shirt and a gun metal gray jacket over that._

"_That man was a fool. At least in the Fade I can shoot lightning bolts at them."_

"_Am I dreaming this?" I feel foolish asking. If it is a dream then my dream will answer me however my subconscious demands._

"_It is a dream." Anders's hand reaches out and takes mine. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. You are not alone. I'm here." He looks around. "This place is amazing. Is it like this in your world?"_

"_Exactly?" I respond. "I haven't actually been here, but I've heard about it." Anders is here. I feel better. That crushing feeling in my chest is going away. "This is where I saw Danny after he died. I think I was dead, too, for a while. We said goodbye here." I blinked as the tears began to burn in my eyes. "I thought I might find Zevran here. Both of them, perhaps. It would make me happy if they were together until it is my time, then the three of us can be together again."_

_Anders looks surprised. "The three of you? Were you with them both… together?"_

_I nod and smile at the memory. "Yes. It just worked out that way."_

"_Maker…" Anders whispers. He pulls at his collar nervously and takes a breath. "Back on topic then, yes? Um, as I was saying, you're not alone, my lovely Lucy. I am with you." He fidgets and pulls at his jeans. "Do people always wear such tight pants here?"_

_My attention wanders to a disembodied hand crawling across the bar, another one joins it. I think about panicking but then I realize it's what remains of the bartender and he's fixing my drink. Well, that's all right then. _

_Anders grasps my hand gently. "Stay with me, sweetheart. Don't make me chase you all over the Fade tonight__. I'm here. You're not alone."_

_Not alone. No, Anders is here. Sweet Anders. He's been such a good friend. I'm just so tired of being alone, having to be strong all the time. I want to have someone to lean on… He's been there all along, hasn't he? He kept Danny and I safe when Daniel was born. He's rescued me from despair and templars and asphyxiation by darkspawn and Fergus and… he's just been there almost from the beginning of this nightmare that Amaranthine has been._

"_Anders," I whisper. "I can't do this alone any longer."_

_He stands and pulls me out of my chair and into his arms. "Then don't. Let me be your bed when you're weary, your pillar when you need support. I am a healer, Lucy. Let me heal you."_

_I bury my face into his neck and breathe him in; his warmth seems to seep into me, warming my heart, which feels so heavy and unnatural in my chest. He casts some sort of magic and I feel calmer, the fog of despair lifts a little and the tears I shed aren't the soul-wracking sobs of earlier. These feel like pain lifting, healing, cleaning away a heavy layer of grief, like a Pacific breeze clearing Los Angeles smog._

"_Zevran, forgive me," I whisper. I'm in the arms of another man, he hasn't even been gone a day, to me anyway__._

"_There is nothing to forgive, Lucy. He would want you to be happy, wouldn't he?" He smoothes my curls with his hand. His voice is warm and low, sweet, with his mouth next to my ear._

_Something prickles at my consciousness, itches… Darkspawn? "Darkspawn!" I try to pull back from Anders but he won't let go. The restaurant begins to change into a subterranean scene._

"_No, Lucy. There's no darkspawn here. Stay with me," he continues to hold me, one hand on my back, the other still smoothing my hair. "Take us where it is quiet and peaceful."_

"_I can't."_

"_You can."_

_Even as he says it the scene changes again. It's that pretty meadow east of the keep. It is warm. Springtime. The flowers are blooming. There's a small herd of goats nearby and a kid is jumping around, playing with the other baby goats._

"_See," he gloats a little and tugs on my hair. "I knew you could."_

_We settle into the grass and he never lets go of me. We talk, I think. Whatever is said I forget as soon as I've said it, but the feeling of peace stays with me. I lean against him and then I'm lying with my head on his lap, his voice is speaking softly while my eyes slip shut. Then I sleep._

_~o~o~o~_

I awoke from a deep sleep knowing I had dreamed but the dream had slipped around a corner, like a shadow fleeing light. I felt something very off. Grief, yes, that was still there. My bed felt wrong. Cold. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, gritty from crying. I knew what I needed and I wasn't going to deny it any longer. _I need Anders. I can't do this alone._ The thought kept playing in my head until it drove me out of my bed. I slipped down the hall, my feet freezing on the stone floor. I carefully tried his door. It wasn't locked so I slipped into his room. He was sound asleep, lying on his side. I really hoped he wouldn't mind my intrusion, but I didn't want to wake him to ask, so I carefully slipped under the covers next to him.

When I pulled back the covers I could see something glinting in the moonlight next to him. I reached out and picked up an empty bottle.

_Does Anders have a secret drinking problem? _I wondered. The bottle was smallish, though. I uncorked it and smelled it. _Lyrium._ _Why would a mage drink lyrium at bedtime? Is he addicted?_ I hoped not but now wasn't the time to solve this problem. I slipped into his bed and pulled the covers over us both. I discovered that Marigold was also in there, snuggled next to Anders. She shifted out of the way and my disturbance of her sleep started her purring.

His presence next to me warmed me quickly. Even though my heart felt swollen with grief, it began to feel less heavy. A few more tears leaked out but I was better. The purring cat and Anders's presence, even while he was asleep, was comforting. I fell asleep again.

~o~o~o~

Sunlight streaming through a window woke me. I was disoriented. _This isn't my room._ Then I remembered. Anders's arm was looped over my chest and he had pulled me tightly against him. There was no way I could get up without waking him. Somehow I managed to sleep soundly and I feel relatively good.

I tried on the new reality by allowing the thought to enter my brain. _Zevran isn't coming back._ Yes, it makes me want to cry again, but it isn't quite as debilitating today. I know how this goes. I'm no stranger to loss. I also know how I cope with it best, by being too busy to dwell on it. It is moments like these, when I am idle, that the memories come crowding back and I'm subject to weeping. Yet, with Anders's arms around me and Marigold wedged between our legs, I'm not crying.

_Am I making a colossal mistake here?_ _Is this going to undermine my authority? And do I even give a shit if it does?_

Interesting questions. Even more interesting was the realization I truly didn't give a crap_._ I had had it with the Grey Wardens, well, at least the ones outside of Ferelden. I wasn't going to let them decide my fate for me by threatening to expose me to the Chantry. If they did, I would deal with it.

Zevran's death reminded me of how painfully short life is. He, more than anyone, knew this and did his best to get the most out of life. His philosophy might have seemed hedonistic, but it was ultimately pragmatic. In his position, death would almost certainly come early. Face it, in my position the same was true, unless I changed my profession.

I resolved to start transitioning things over to Nathaniel. I didn't want to leave Daniel an orphan in this backwards land. At least I had magic and education, and that could help ensure his survival in this world. Or would it? Even after several years here, I was still a noob. Anders, though, he could fill in the blanks where I still had them. All right, admittedly I had lots of them and Anders probably did too, having been shut away from society for much of his life. But together, we could muddle through.

I would move heaven and earth if I had to, but I was going to get out from under the burden of Grey Wardening. I felt a surge of defiance and a certainty that I would prevail. Things would begin changing as of today. _This I swear._

_Ah. _That last thought nearly undid me. I heard it in Zevran's voice in my head, an echo of the oath he once swore to me. I gasped noisily at the emotional pain that shot through me and that woke Anders.

He rose up on an elbow and peered into my face. "Are you all right?" He looked worried.

I smiled sadly at him. "I am. I just… My emotions are a little wild right now."

"Of course." He settled back into bed. "I was surprised to find you here. You sneaked in during the night?"

I turned over so I was facing him. Our faces were close together since we were sharing a pillow. "I'm sorry. I should have asked… or stayed in my own bed. I just couldn't…"

"I know," he said. "You don't need to explain anything."

His hand reached out and stroked my cheek. He looked at me with a questioning look. I think he wondered what the nature of this intimacy was. Was there something beyond me seeking simple human companionship and comfort in his bed? There was, but it might be a while before I was ready for that.

"Can we take this slowly?" I asked him. "I need some time, but… I need you, too."

He looked happy at my confession and his hand found mine under the covers. He brought it up to his lips and kissed it lightly. "I will let you decide how this goes. If you want, I'll sleep at the foot of your bed and tickle your feet any time you dream of darkspawn until I'm an old and gray Grey Warden."

I couldn't help but smile at the image. "I promise you won't have to sleep at the foot of the bed, or tickle my feet." I leaned in and kissed him lightly.

He raised his eyebrows, looking quite pleased with the chaste kiss. "Then I can die a happy man, to share the bed of the Commander of the Grey."

I flinched at the sentiment. "Please… don't say that. I've had enough of people I care about dying."

"Oh, of course," he sighed. "You'd better get used to me saying the wrong thing, I do it a lot."

I smiled a little. "I forgive you in advance, for all the wrong things you'll say."

He was about to kiss me when we heard men's voices. I could sense Nathaniel in the hallway and thought I recognized Varel's voice. I couldn't quite make out what they were talking about, but suddenly I felt like I'd been caught smoking in the girl's room in high school and I was going to have to face the principal.

"I'd better go face the music," I said grimly. I could just imagine the arched eyebrows and questioning looks I was going to get when I walked out of Anders's bedroom in my nightgown.

"We could make up a little fabrication about why you're in my bedroom in your nightgown," he offered.

I shook my head empathically. "Absolutely not. We have nothing to hide." I was trying to convince myself as much as him. "We're adults, not naughty children." I swung my legs out of bed and wished I'd thought to bring a robe.

He got up as well. "Wait, perhaps you should put this on." He held his dressing gown out for me to slip my arms into and he tied it around my waist. It was a bit long, but I felt a little more respectable. His eyes and mine met, and then his hand reached out and stroked my cheek in a sweetly tender gesture.

"Perhaps you should stay here and let me handle whatever kerfuffle is happening out there," I suggested

His chin set in what I can only describe as a look of pure stubbornness. "Absolutely not. We'll face this together. However, I'd better find something to wear." He had on a pair of sleeping trousers and that was all.

In better times, I would have been hard pressed to not want to run my hands over that enticing expanse of chest and those finely shaped arms. Anders was often out training with his staff, using it as a weapon, or taking instructions from Oghren or Nathaniel, and his physique reflected that training. In my current state of mind, I could appreciate his physical beauty, but in a way more like appreciating a Michelangelo. Someday, when my grief had diminished, I would properly appreciate his… attributes.

I turned away to give him privacy. "All right, get dressed and we'll go out together." _Maker, this relationship is off to a very strange start._

He dressed quickly and we walked out together. He stayed protectively close to me. His hand squeezed mine one last time as we prepared to show the world that Lucy and Anders were now a team.

**Nathaniel**

There was something meditative about sharpening a sword. Rubbing oil down its length, the grating rasp of the whetstone running along the smooth surface, focused the mind like little else. He ignored the autoerotic symbolism of the task, or tried to.

_Maker, it has been a long time…_

Once, Nathaniel Howe had been counted quite the catch. Serving girls and bored matrons used to go out of their way to flirt with him. It seemed he could have his pick of women. But he'd always been careful. He didn't want someone to claim their brat had been sired by him, so his dalliances were usually with those whose professional discretion could be counted on.

Then the Wardens had claimed him and now he was just the son of a disgraced traitor. Ever since Lucy had freed him from the dungeon he'd been deaf and blind to the interest of women. His confidence had been shattered when he returned to Ferelden and found out how his family name had been destroyed. Any interest shown in him seemed a mockery of who he was and what his family had been. A maid daring to twirl her hair around a finger and gaze overly long at him was likely to be on the receiving end of a scowl and sent away with a growl, or ordered to empty a chamber pot.

One such was doing it now. This one had brought up a tray with breakfast.

"Ser," she said, bobbing into a little curtsey, "I thought you might like to break your fast. I noticed you missed breakfast this morning." Her head tilted down, and she peered flirtatiously at him through her dark blonde hair, her wide blue eyes meeting his. "You must be hungry after your trip."

"If I had wanted breakfast, girl, I would have gone down to get it." This wasn't the first time this cheeky minx had been up to his room on some pretext or another. He racked his memory trying to remember if she'd been at the keep before he'd been sent to the Free Marches. She probably had been, although she would have been quite young. Still, it was probably quite amusing to her to see how far the Howes had fallen. He turned back to his sword sharpening and tried to ignore her.

Truthfully, he was hungry and had planned to go down to the kitchen in a while, but he would never admit it to her. The girl didn't leave. Nathaniel heard her exasperated sigh. His next stroke of honing stone against blade was off by a few degrees. It would dull his sword. He cursed loudly and the girl jumped nervously.

"Why are you still here?" he growled. "Take the tray and go make yourself useful."

He looked away, dismissing her and tried to focus on his blade again when he heard the clatter of the tray being set down, with more force than necessary. "Why are you always so rude to me?" She lifted her head defiantly and stomped her way over to him. "I simply won't tolerate it any longer! If you don't stop being so rude I'll sharpen that sword of yours and stick it…" She paused like she was trying to find some suitable destination for his sword; one a lady could say. "Ooooh!" She stomped her foot and turned, ready to flounce out of his room.

Nathaniel was surprised and amused by her anger. "Oh, you think _you_ can sharpen a sword, do you?" He was going to best the girl at her own game. If she wanted to flirt and tease him, then he would do her one better. He reached out and grasped her wrist to keep her from leaving and pulled her over to the side of the bed where he was sitting. "Sit!" he ordered her.

She sat, trying to keep a seemly distance but he purposefully invaded her space. He presented her the sword, hilt first, which she tentatively took and then he grabbed her other hand and slapped the whetstone into it. She looked up at him, looking a bit fearful, then back at her hands holding the whetstone and sword.

"Go on then, girl" Nathaniel said, scowling but hiding his amusement. Obviously, she had no idea what to do.

"Stop calling me, girl. My name is Mary Ann. Why are you so rude?"

"Uh uh, you're not changing the subject now. Sharpen my sword… Mary Ann."

She stared at the objects in her hands and furrowed her brow. "How hard can it be?" The stone rasped down the length of the blade, undoing every bit of the keen edge Nathaniel had given his blade this morning.

"Maker's breath! You're ruining it." He pressed closer to her and wrapped an arm around her so he could guide her hands. He could hear the gasp she made at the contact and feel her trembling. _Is she afraid? Serve the minx right, taunting me so._ Still… she smelled nice, like herbs and like… _Squash pie_? That fragrantly spiced pie that is served on feast days. She tried to pull away but his arms held her in place. "You wanted to sharpen my sword and stick it somewhere, didn't you? So sharpen it you will!"

He changed her grip on his sword and then changed the angle at which she was holding the whetstone. He guided her hand down the length of the sword. He doubted she was even paying attention to the details he was trying to show her.

"See? You need to keep the stone at an angle to the blade. If you just draw it down the length of the blade willy-nilly you'll dull it." His voice was a little softer this time and he felt the girl begin to relax.

"I… I see." She twisted around to look at him, her eyes wide, and such a pretty, intense blue color.

"No, you can't see if you don't look at your hands."

She turned back to the task, her arms and hands relaxed into it, letting him guide her in the motions.

"Now you're starting to catch on. I might be able to cut butter with this thing now. However, you have a long ways to go before you'll have this sharp enough to cause me discomfort when you shove it… wherever you intended to put it."

Mary Ann smiled shyly. "Maybe I won't have to. You seem to be nice enough when you put your mind to it."

Nathaniel snorted and let go of an arm and let her take over while he reached for a vial. "Here. Use some of this. It'll make the stone glide more smoothly." He took the whetstone from her and gave her a rag. He poured a very generous amount of oil into the rag.

She looked up at him, looking confused. "Do I put this on the rock?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "It is a whetstone, Mary Ann. No. You rub it on the sword. Here, I'll show you." He wrapped his hand around hers and guided it down the blade. The oil oozed out of the cloth and liberally coated her hand and his. Their hands slid together, slowly, carefully, up and down the length of the blade.

Neither of them spoke, but he could see Mary Ann's cheeks coloring and felt heat coming from her. If she wanted to flirt then he would see just how far she would take it before she would inevitably flee back to the safety of the kitchen to tell the other girls about the disgraced Howe.

The close contact with the girl, no matter if she was a teasing minx, was having an effect on him. The girl's hair was coming lose from her ponytail and it dangled fetchingly against her neck. _Well, I'll give her something to giggle about with her friends._ Against his better judgment he lowered his head and pressed his lips to her neck.

"Ser Warden?" she said, turning at the waist to look at him.

"Do you want to stop sharpening my sword?" he said, his voice low and rough.

"I… N-n-no," she stuttered a little.

"Good." He took his hand off hers and used it to turn her face to his. His oily fingers left a slick path as he drew them across her cheek. Then he kissed her.

Surprisingly, she didn't pull away as he had expected, or deliver a stinging slap. Instead, her mouth met his and he heard a little sigh as she kissed him back. Nathaniel was mindful of his oily hand, otherwise he would have pulled her closer, but he didn't want to get the oil on her dress.

He heard a pair of clunks as the whetstone and his sword fell to the floor. He was just about to go find a cleaner rag to wipe their hands on, when there was a low cough from the doorway. He'd forgotten the door was open.

Mary Ann pulled away as if she'd been burnt and stood up quickly. She glanced at the doorway and then at Nathaniel. "I'd better… I have to…" she waved her hands as if they could speak for her. "In the kitchen…" She turned and fled his room.

Nathaniel got up and nodded to Varel, who was trying to look like he hadn't seen what he had just seen.

"Ah, Nathaniel, you're up," Varel said smoothly. "There's a bit of a problem. I hated to disturb the Commander, but we've heard rumors of darkspawn around Amaranthine. Captain Garevel is investigating and should be returning later today with more information. I thought the Commander should know, though, so I went to her room and no one answered. Since the door was open, I went in and she's not there."

Nathaniel's brow furrowed. "Perhaps she got up early? Maybe they've seen her in the kitchen this morning."

Varel shook his head. "No. No one has seen her. She's not in the nursery. I questioned all the guards on duty and they haven't seen her either."

Nathaniel scratched the back of his neck. He knew that Lucy could probably take some animal form and slip away unnoticed, but why would she? It didn't make sense. "Have the Antivans left yet?"

Varel nodded. "They left at dawn. You don't suppose…"

"We'd better check her room. If they were up to any mischief perhaps there would be some indication there." Nathaniel strapped his sadly dulled sword to his back.

The men walked to Lucy's room and looked for evidence of foul play. Nothing was obviously out of place. Her bed had been used and her robe was still lying at the foot of the bed. There were no scorch marks from magic, the blankets were mussed but no more than would be normal.

Nathaniel still hadn't mastered the ability to find Wardens using his darkspawn-sensing abilities, but Oghren claimed he could.

"Is Oghren up yet?" Nathaniel asked.

Varel shrugged. "I'm not sure."

They woke Oghren and asked him if he could sense Lucy anywhere in the keep. The dwarf got a sly smile on his face. "Ask the mage. Twitchfinger seems to have her in his room. Now, get out and let a fella get some rest."

"Don't get too comfortable. It looks like the darkspawn are up to something," Nathaniel warned. "Thanks for locating the Commander for us."

Oghren yawned, scratched the dense mat of fur on his chest and burrowed back into his blankets. "Don' mention…" The sentence dwindled off into nothing and was punctuated by a snore.

The men left Oghren's room and stood outside Anders's door. Neither one made a move to knock on it.

"Perhaps I'll leave you to roust the Commander, Nathaniel. I can check downstairs to see if Garevel has come back yet," Varel offered, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Oh no. If anyone should do it, it should be you. I'll never be able to keep a straight face," Nathaniel countered.

Varel frowned slightly. "Coin toss?"

Nathaniel dug into his pocket and pulled out a sovereign. "Heads, you knock." He never had a chance to flip the coin because Lucy pulled the door open at that moment and stood there glaring at the pair of them, dressed in an oversized robe. Anders stood right behind her, fully dressed.

"I take it you were looking for me?" Lucy asked, drawing herself up to try to look more commanding.

"Yes, Commander," Varel said smoothly. "We were a little worried when you weren't in your rooms. There have been reports of darkspawn activity around Amaranthine. Garevel has gone to look into it. He's taken a small force with him."

Lucy nodded curtly. "All right. Varel see to it that some provisions are set aside in case we need to leave quickly. Make sure horses are ready."

"Yes, Commander," Varel replied.

"Nathaniel, wake the other Wardens and make sure they're ready when Garevel returns. I'm going to go change."

Seeing Lucy trying to look like she hadn't just been caught in Anders's bedroom was almost more than he could bear. The corner of his mouth just wouldn't stop twitching upwards.

"Howe, wipe the smirk off your face!" Lucy snapped.

_Deny it. _"I'm not smirking."

Lucy narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "You have your orders, Howe. See to it!" She turned sharply and moved to leave but her foot snagged the edge of Anders's robe and she nearly fell.

This time Nathaniel couldn't help himself; a grin broke out over his face but he turned away to hide it. Anders was too busy helping Lucy right herself to notice and Lucy didn't see it either. Nathaniel walked away, suppressing his amusement but for the half-smirk on his mouth.

**Loghain**

They had encountered several small groups of darkspawn since leaving Amaranthine but there was something afoot, he could feel it. His strange Warden sense had been prickling ever since he left the city and hadn't let up. He remembered how it had felt before the archdemon had attacked Denerim and it felt like that. It was like the horde was back and out there somewhere.

He'd been on-edge all morning and now his escort had picked up his uneasiness. They began to push the horses harder. The feeling began to dissipate as they got further from Amaranthine. Then, halfway to the keep, they met Garevel going the toward the city.

"Hail, Teyrn," Garevel pulled his horse alongside Loghain's. "We've had reports…"

"Yes, they're authentic. The darkspawn are amassing not far from Amaranthine. Take your men and do what you can to defend the city, should it come to that. Has the Warden-Commander returned?"

Garevel nodded. "She returned yesterday. There were some visitors from Antiva as well."

Loghain's brow rose. "Oh? Any idea what they wanted?"

Garevel frowned. "I'm not certain, but they delivered news that seemed to upset the commander."

_The inevitable has finally happened. _He felt a little guilty at feeling something like relief. Now she could finally move on with her life. But now was not the time for pondering the implications of that. She needed to move on this threat.

"Any other news, Captain?" Loghain asked.

"Well, yes. The Teyrn of Highever sent some troops. They arrived two days ago." The look on Garevel's face suggested that there was something wrong in this news.

"And?" Loghain prompted.

The captain shook his head, a look of disgust over his face. "Those that aren't the dregs of humanity he obviously fished out of prison, have never held a sword before in their lives." Garevel spat in the road to show his disgust. "I left them at the keep. I hope they don't sack it before I return."

Loghain swore and shook his head. It was entirely what he expected from Fergus Cousland, and hoped for even, but the timing was particularly bad. If there was a major attack on Amaranthine they couldn't be dealing with Cousland's latest affront. Well, he would make do somehow. "Anything else, Captain?"

Garevel shook his head. "No, Ser. I'll take command at Amaranthine and defend against any attacks."

"We'll send Wardens, shortly. Hang tight until then." Loghain nodded to the captain and signaled his men to follow. He spurred his horse into a quick trot. The feeling that something was afoot still nagged at him, even though he could no longer sense darkspawn. Something big was brewing.

_~o~o~o~_

The Wardens were having their noon meal when Loghain strode in. The mood was subdued, not the usual light-hearted joking. They also all looked tired from their exploration of Kal'Hirol.

Lucy looked up from her meal. She looked tired and far more somber than usual. "Loghain! I'm glad you're back. We were waiting to hear from Garevel on whether there was a threat to Amaranthine. What did you find on your way back?"

"I have a bad feeling about this. Let's talk more in private"

Lucy nodded and stood up from the table. Loghain saw the mage look at her with concern. A few quiet words passed between them and all he could hear was her reassuring him she was all right. _Has she been ill or injured or was this about her emotional state?_

Loghain led the way to Lucy's office and she closed the door behind them. He settled into a chair and waited for her to do the same.

"I heard about Zevran," he said, bluntly. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I truly am, but I'm afraid you need to put this behind you for now."

Lucy blinked a few times and nodded. "I take it you ran into darkspawn leaving Amaranthine?"

He nodded. "Several small groups. Scouts, no doubt." He stood and paced over to her window and looked out. "Remember how it felt the day before the horde fell on Denerim?"

"Quite well, yes." The look of sadness on her face deepened at the memory.

"I felt something like that leaving Amaranthine. There's something big brewing and I don't know where it's coming from or going to."

"Damn," Lucy swore. "The timing is bad. Kal'Hirol was a bloody mess. How we got out of there without losing someone, I don't know."

"You'll have to tell me about it another time. You need to take some Wardens and head to Amaranthine. Darkspawn seem to like attacking cities. Lots of potential broodmothers there."

She made a pained face. "We saw plenty of them in Kal'Hirol, but yes, I agree."

"You need to move quickly, so take your best riders. I'll stay here, with whomever you leave behind and deal with the things here. Your _brother_ sent some troops while we both were away. Garevel said they're not fit for cleaning the latrines."

Lucy's head sunk slowly to her desk and she let her forehead drop against it with a clunk. "Oh for fuck's sake. Can you send them back?" She looked up from the desk hopefully.

"I've had some experience dealing with troops like these before. Don't worry about it."

"Sweet Maker…" she blinked at him. "Don't be unnecessarily cruel. They're still people."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Madam, you're questioning your Teyrn's leadership abilities already?"

"Um… no." She realized her mistake and backpedaled quickly. "My Teyrn? Hey, I like the sound of that. Should we make it official?"

"No, we'll do it after we get this mess sorted." He paused a moment. "Are you all right?"

"Maybe this is the best thing for me. I'll be too busy to think about anything."

Loghain smiled. "That's my Lucy. I'll look after things here."

Lucy's face clouded again. "If anything happens to me, look after Daniel. See that he gets a good education and grows up to be a good man."

Loghain nodded. "I will, but nothing is going to happen to you."

They walked out together and back to the kitchen where the Wardens were still dining.

Lucy sat back down at the table. "We're going to ride to Amaranthine at top speed. Something is up with the darkspawn and the most likely target is a relatively soft one, like Amaranthine. Justice and Sigrun, I'd like you two to stay here and assist Loghain with whatever he needs. If, in the unlikely event, the darkspawn should attack here, I want there to be Wardens available to defend. I doubt they'd be that foolish." She took a sip of her ale and set it down. "Harrison, Oghren, Anders and Nathaniel will be going with me to Amaranthine."

Nathaniel leaned over to Lucy. "Uh, Sigrun hasn't done the joining yet, Commander."

"Oh… um, right. We'll take care of that straight away, before we leave. Could you tell Varel to prepare everything?"

Nathaniel nodded and left.

Lucy looked at her Wardens. "I know this is asking a lot of you, spending two weeks in the Deep Roads only to strike out again, but we're the best defense this country has against the darkspawn and we're spread thin. We'll do some serious recruiting in the months ahead so the burden won't only be on our tiny force." She stood up and raised her tankard. "Now, let's go make a new Grey Warden and then go kick some darkspawn ass!"

Every Warden there got to his or her feet and toasted the sentiment with whatever they were drinking.

They went to the great hall where Varel readied a cup of Joining potion. Lucy took it from him, but let him say the words. They all watched as she cut her palm and muttered a little incantation. Her blood shimmered as it dripped into the glass.

"I feel like a mommy vampire sometimes," she muttered.

Loghain had no idea what that meant. This was the first joining ceremony he'd been to, other than his own, and no one had bled into his cup that he was aware of.

Sigrun accepted the cup, her eyes big. "Drink this? Really?" She sniffed it and looked at Lucy.

Lucy nodded at her. "'Fraid so. A sip is all you need."

Sigrun shrugged and brought the cup to her lips. "Well… here goes nothing." She took a generous, brave sip and handed the chalice back to Lucy.

"You might want to sit…" Lucy warned her, but it was too late. The dwarven woman was already teetering and she fell backwards into Nathaniel's waiting arms.

Anders hovered over the woman and checked her. "She's going to live." He smiled at Lucy and she returned it.

Something in the exchange between the two made Loghain furrow his brow. He'd think about it later. "All right. We'll look after her, the rest of you need to get to Amaranthine." He pulled Lucy aside for one last word. "Be careful, Lucy."

She looked into his face and smiled wistfully. "I will be. You too. Give Danny a kiss for me when he wakes."

The Wardens ran to get their packs and mustered in the courtyard in a matter of minutes. Loghain watched them mount and then thunder down the road at a gallop.

_Maker go with you._

_~o~o~o~_

They made good time with the use of rejuvenation spells on the horses and themselves. They weren't too far down the road when Lucy understood what Loghain was talking about. There was something in the air. A tension… like static electricity, was building. It rode on her senses, like a smell you could taste, but it involved neither sense.

"Do you feel that?" she asked Anders.

"Yes." His face was as grim and drawn as she thought hers was. "What is that?"

She paused a moment, tasting the feeling, sniffing… sniffing the air. Suddenly her face contorted and her eyes narrowed.

"Lucy?" Anders asked, alarmed at her expression.

Her cheek twitched and her eyes watered, then she sneezed with such force it made her horse buck. "That's a fuck-load of darkspawn if their dander is making me sneeze in the open air. I can't even sense them yet, not like normal… I just know they're out there, somewhere."

They rode on. They were still thirty minutes hard riding from Amaranthine when they saw the first smoke. Anders and Lucy dosed the horses with another round of rejuvenation and they pressed them even harder. Well outside of Amaranthine, they dismounted and hobbled the horses. Lucy's darkspawn senses were twitching madly as they closed the distance to Amaranthine.

They met darkspawn just outside the city; a handful that were quickly eliminated. Then they ran into Captain Garevel and Constable Aidan, just outside the city gates.

"They attacked just before I got here, Commander," Garevel told her. "They have some secret entrance and they just seemed to erupt inside the city walls. We were waiting for them to attack from the city perimeter."

"Maker," Lucy swore. "Casualties?"

"Bad, very bad," the constable said. "I'm afraid the city is lost. They've spread their corruption and many have died. Commander, it's too late. Amaranthine is lost. The best bet is to burn the city and their foul infection with it."

Lucy turned to Garevel. "What do you say?"

Garevel looked burdened beyond his ability to bear it. "I've lost many good men here. I'm not sure how much help we'll be able to give you. But to burn the city…" he shook his head, "I couldn't make such a decision."

Harrison broke into the conversation. "Commander, there's a darkspawn approaching." He pointed down the road they'd just cleared of darkspawn.

Lucy looked in the direction he pointed. He was armed, but hadn't drawn his weapons.

"Archers, take him down!" the constable ordered.

"Peace! Do not be killing. Only talk," The darkspawn rasped as he drew nearer. "The Architect has a message for the Grey Wardens."

"Wait!" Lucy held up her hand. "Let's see what he wants to say."

"As you will, Commander," the constable said and gestured to the archers to hold their fire.

"The Mother's army, it marches to Vigil's keep. She attacks now! The Architect, he sends me to warn you." The darkspawn's poorly aligned teeth meant he sprayed spittle and was barely understandable at times. He also had several bleeding wounds on his lips where he'd apparently gnashed himself with his own twisted incisors.

"The Architect?" Lucy shook her head. "So who the hell is attacking Amaranthine?" These darkspawn factions were confusing.

"This is the Mother's work. The Architect would not attack the Grey Wardens. You must save Vigil's keep, and then finish the Mother in her lair."

Lucy cast an anxious look at Anders. "Daniel…" she whispered. "Oh Maker… Daniel is at the keep!"

Garevel seemed decisive at last. "If we leave now, we may be able to get back to the Vigil in time to save it."

"What about the darkspawn here," the constable said, apparently forgetting a moment ago he had advised her to torch the city.

Anders pulled her aside and grasped her by the forearms. "Danny will be fine. You had reinforcements made to the walls. Loghain is there, along with some of his troops. Dworkin, the Mad, is there and he's got a shit-load of bombs. I have no doubt whatsoever that the keep can withstand whatever this… _Mother_… throws at it." They returned to the discussion.

"We can't lose the keep in addition to Amaranthine, Warden-Commander. The city is lost. Destroy it. Burn it and all the darkspawn in it," the constable urged her.

Nathaniel frowned at Lucy. "Commander, we can't save Amaranthine if it is already lost. We can still save the Vigil!"

Lucy turned abruptly on her second. "Your sister might be in there, Nathaniel. Are you prepared to give up hope already?"

Anders glared at Nathaniel. "If we destroy this city, we're no better than the darkspawn!"

Lucy looked around at the people pulling her in opposing directions. _My baby!_ The thought echoed in her head and it very nearly made her take flight to get to the keep as soon as possible.

Harrison looked at her with sympathy. If he had an opinion he was keeping it to himself. Oghren didn't give a damn, he'd go wherever she pointed him. She felt Anders's warm presence behind her and it strengthened her. He was right. Loghain would fight to the death to protect Daniel. She had to trust in him and in the work of the dwarven engineers.

She turned to Nathaniel. "We are going to stay and do whatever we can to save any survivors. The keep is strong and Loghain is there. I trust him. Are you with me Howe?"

Nathaniel Howe looked at the woman who had killed his father, the one who had stood between him and death more than once. This was the woman he had nearly betrayed and she was still willing to hand over the keep to him. He would follow her to the ends of Thedas if she asked it of him. "It will take a miracle, but I will follow your lead, Commander."

Lucy nodded at her second. "Any other objections?"

"No! No!" the darkspawn interjected. "If you stay the Mother will get what she wants."

Lucy turned and glared at the talking darkspawn. "Hey homey, if you fight with us I'll spare your life. After we finish here, we'll go to this fucking _Mother_'s lair."

The darkspawn looked resigned. "I will do as the Grey Warden wishes."

Lucy stiffened her resolve. _Trust Loghain, dammit. _She repeated it over and over like a mantra. "Once more into the breach." She drew her dagger with a flourish. "Let's go kick us some darkspawn ass, Wardens!"

They gave a lusty cheer and drew their weapons. The gates to the city creaked open and they slipped inside and the gates thundered closed behind them.

_Trust Loghain! Dear Maker, please let me not be making a colossal mistake. Protect my baby._

Under other circumstances, Lucy would have laughed at her sudden religiosity.

_To be continued…_

_**Notes: **Thanks to Biff for the great job of proofreading. She catches loads of sleef. Sarah, Josie Lange, Biff McLaughlin, Anonymous Person, zevgirl, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Naevene, Shi, Aynslesa, .x, Jenna53, tgcgoddess, Scarylady1: Thanks for sticking around, reading and commenting!_

_I stole the title from Phillip Dick's novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? It might make for a weird chapter in a Grey Warden handbook, especially since they have no concept of electricity... but what the hell! _


	16. More Blighted Sheep?

_Sorry about the spam! I'm having problems posting this chapter. It seems to work to post it twice, they both show up, but if I only post it once, it won't show up. I'm so confused!_

_The story continues from the last chapter. Lucy has taken Nathaniel, Oghren, Harrison and Anders to Amaranthine, leaving Loghain, Justice and Sigrun behind at the keep._

**_~o~o~o~_**

**Lucy**

Amaranthine's gate clanged shut behind us leaving us in a battle cage inside a twelfth century movie set, like _Lord of the Rings_ meets _Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome_. This wasn't a mano-a-mano moment either, this was oodles and scads of darkspawn against five underpaid, overworked Grey Wardens. I wasn't liking the odds. Ironic that I'd just this morning decided I was to stop doing this sort of thing so I could survive long enough to see my baby grow up.

"We both survive this, okay?" I commented to Anders, sotto voce.

He nodded his agreement and gave me a quick smile.

Then the first of the darkspawn charged us and we were in it. My mind went blessedly blank but for the thought of a darkspawn army approaching my child. That only made me fight harder. I drew on the lyrium in my necklace more than I had done any time since the Blight.

_What if he gets darkspawn blood on him? Loghain knows what to do._

Every now and then a mom-thought would bubble up into my consciousness, but I pushed them away with another refrain of _Trust Loghain. _

We battled groups of darkspawn all over town and freed townspeople trapped in their homes, or sometimes cowering behind barrels or in dead ended alleys.

We entered one house and found two tainted adults, their twelve year old daughter and an infant girl. Both the children were free of the taint. I froze, paralyzed by the knowledge of what had to happen.

I'd encountered this sort of thing before, during the Blight. I wasn't the sort of person who could cull the herd for the good of everyone concerned. I'd nearly lost my mind when Danaya, a werewolf, begged for death. Duncan or Riordan would never have hesitated. This was why I was a crappy Grey Warden.

Oghren knew this about me and took over when the paralysis took hold of me. "Twitch, take the kids and Lucy. Find someone to look after the tykes."

Anders looked at me and saw the state I was in. My feet refused to move until he wrapped an arm around my waist. "Let's get the children out, Commander." He poured some calming magic into me and it broke the hold horror had on me.

I nodded and realized I need to hold it together for the kids. I painted a smile on my face and spoke to the twelve year old reassuringly, at least as much as I was able. "Come with us, all right? We're going to take you to a safe place that the Grey Wardens have secured. You'll be safe there."

"Aren't mommy and daddy coming?" the little girl asked me.

I bit my lips to keep from crying out. Anders saw my raw emotional state and swept the little girl into his arms. "Look at this!" He made blue and orange sparks leap from his hands. I turned away and wiped my eyes and then went to pick up the infant.

Nathaniel and Oghren had the parents in the back bedroom and I could hear pleading and crying. I had to get out of there. I nearly ran out of the house with the baby girl in my arms. We caught up with the last untainted person we'd rescued as he was headed to the city gates. It was a young elven man. He agreed to escort the kids outside the city. I handed him the infant and I couldn't help but wonder how Daniel was faring.

I stood rooted to the spot again, afraid to return, knowing what was happening to the parents of those children.

"I can't do this, Anders. What if this is happening to Daniel?" I felt my gorge rising at the thought. "I made the wrong choice, didn't I? We should've gone back to the keep." I staggered away from Anders and leaned against a wall, shaking like a leaf, and then I lost whatever was in my stomach. Only it didn't stop there. I couldn't stop retching.

Anders caught hold of me and did something magical to calm my stomach and me. He rummaged through his pack to find a water skin and handed it to me. My hands trembled so much I could scarcely hold the bag steady to drink.

"We have to do this, Lucy. We just rescued two children, Maker knows how many more there are." He held me to him until I stopped shaking.

Our eyes met and I could see as much pain in his as I knew there was in mine. _How do people do this and not go stark raving mad?_ "I trust Loghain." Saying it aloud helped.

"Of course! There's no more experienced general in all of Ferelden, perhaps in Thedas, right?"

"He'd die to protect Danny," I said, nodding. "The keep is strong."

"None stronger," he affirmed.

I took one last look at Anders and fought off the encroaching mental breakdown. I had to do this. "Once more unto the breach…" I breathed the words, not even sure Anders could hear them. From somewhere I found the strength to return to that house where I'm sure the parents had already died to Oghren's axe.

A somber-looking Oghren and Nathaniel waited for us outside. Harrison was with them, his face ashen. Of any of us, I would have thought he would be the least affected, having wielded the _sword of mercy _himself. The house was still now. No more begging or crying.

"Let's go." The words rasped out of my throat. I had enough commander left in me that I could at least set our feet into motion again.

Harrison proved his worth time and again, smiting darkspawn mages and draining them of mana, almost before we even realized there was a spell caster amongst them. Nathaniel's archery was incredible. Several times I saw bodies rolling down pitched roofs. The darkspawn had also become excellent archers since the Blight. I wondered about how that had happened.

We battled our way to the chantry; there were fewer darkspawn now. Quite a few people were in the building and we took some time to rest and restock provisions, but not so long we would lose our nerve to continue this and find where the darkspawn had emerged.

_Of course_. They had accessed the town through that underground area we'd once found smugglers in. We cleaned up the area and emerged from under the city at the abandoned shack outside of town. We trudged back to Garevel and the constable and reported the city cleared.

"There are some… tainted bodies you'll need to clear out. Make sure to wear biohazard suits… I mean, wear clothes you can burn afterward, wear gloves. Don't get any blood near your mouth or eyes. Burn the bodies."

The talking darkspawn we'd met before joined us as we walked to our horses. He described the place, Drake's Fall, where we could find the Mother and showed me on my map how to get there. Nathaniel nocked an arrow, ready to kill the surprisingly helpful darkspawn, but I held up my hand.

"You can't mean to spare this… vermin," he sneered. "He _is_ a darkspawn."

"He's a very helpful darkspawn. Maybe they're evolving."

Nathaniel shook his head but stood down. "We'll talk later about this," he murmured to me, a frown on his face.

I knew I would get an earful, but at least he wasn't questioning me in front of everyone else. I was grateful for that. We left the city at a jog and found our horses, still alive, thankfully, and mounted. Off to Drake's Fall then. After hours of fighting through the city, it seemed there was yet more and this time underground, a place where none of us… well, except Oghren, liked to be.

A hard ride of an hour brought us to Drake's Fall, which I learned was not a nice suburban subdivision with immaculate model homes and slavering real estate agents, but a graveyard for dragons. Someday I'll catch onto the Fereldan naming scheme; it tends to the literal. Drake's Fall was where drakes, i.e. dragons, literally fall and can't get up. The place was a freaking graveyard for dead dragons… and, as we learned, not yet dead dragons.

There was a darkspawn resistance and we had to battle our way through it to the ruins. I couldn't help but tally up how much all this dragon bone might sell for. If we survived, this could subsidize running the arling and fund the Grey Wardens for a long, long time. If we survived…

I rounded a corner, Harrison just behind me, when I froze in my tracks staring at the snout of a dragon perhaps a dozen yards from me.

"D…d…dra" I stuttered, barely above a whisper. The dragon's eyes were closed. Was it sleeping? I froze in terror and confusion. _What the hell? Do we try to sneak past or do we take advantage and attack first?_ My last encounter with a dragon had been the archdemon and we'd had ballista, archers and loads of people. The time before that it had been Morrigan's mom and she'd very nearly killed me. And she wasn't even as big as this one.

Harrison murmured a little curse. I'd never heard him say Andraste's name in that context before. It made me like him better. We all hunkered down behind a rock to discuss the situation very, very quietly.

"Can we sneak past?" Anders suggested.

"We could try," Nathaniel speculated, "but if we fail… it could be bad." He peered at the dragon from behind the rock. "Maybe it's dead?"

"Judging from the smoke curling up from its nostrils, that's not likely," I observed. "It's just napping… or pretending to."

We discussed our options. Sadly, no one suggested we go away and come back after it had left. It seemed like our best bet was to attack first while it slept. I described how Riordan had killed Flemeth, by climbing her neck and plunging a dagger into her brain. They weren't crazy about the use of blood magic, but I suggested now wasn't the time to be squeamish over such things.

There was one last detail: Who would climb the neck. Oghren and Harrison were definitely too heavily encumbered. Anders was needed to keep us healed and reinvigorated when our stamina flagged. That left Nathaniel and me.

"I'll do it, Commander," Nathaniel offered graciously.

As much as I wanted to allow him to be gallant, it didn't make sense. I was afraid he wouldn't call on the powers that Avernus's potion gave us and use a bit of blood magic to be able to punch a hole through the dragon's thick skull. And, while Nathaniel was very nimble and graceful, he couldn't move through the Fade like I could.

"Nate, you're too good of an archer. Aim for the eyes. I'll do this. I've had more experience with dragons, unfortunately, and you know how fast I can move. Just… if I should fall, it'll be up to you. And use the goddamn blood magic the Joining potion gave us, it's our only hope."

I handed Anders our entire supply of lyrium, there wasn't all that much left. Our eyes locked. I knew what he was thinking… was this going to be it for one of us or both? I was thinking the exact same thing. I didn't give a rat's ass about being the Warden-Commander any longer. I threw my arms around Anders's neck and kissed him. He pulled me closer and kissed me back with the same intensity.

"Don't fucking die, Anders." I let go of him and tried to pull away but he wouldn't let me go.

"Don't do this," he whispered. "Let Nate handle it."

I shook my head. I knew I was the best person for the job. Maybe only Zevran and Riordan were better, but they were both… gone. I pulled away from him.

"Oghren and Harrison, keep it busy, but watch out for flame breath and its jaws. The bite is bad, I can vouch for that." I turned to Anders. "Frost is good. Counteract the fire as best as you can." I hesitated a moment then turned. "Let's make dragons extinct, starting with this one."

I shouted my best blood-curdling scream and ran full tilt at the dragon, my daggers drawn. Its great eyes slid open as it woke from its nap, pulling back from my charge and looking like a snake coiling for a strike. I wanted to give the others time to move into position. I waited until the split second before I thought he would snap at me with his jaw and I Fade walked. I ended up behind and to the side.

"Over here, you big lizard! You're going to make a lovely wallet, purse, and matching set of pumps for me, so do me a favor and _diiiiiie_," I shrieked. "Your death is my fashion!" I was blathering, not really even sure what I was saying. I think it knew I was being rude and that was what counted. It turned my way, giving the others plenty of time to take up positions. But now that they were in place, I wanted Oghren and Harrison to attract it. I blipped again and hid behind a rock.

While its enormous head searched for me, Harrison and Oghren battered at it with their swords. Soon it figured out it had worse enemies than a shrieking, raving mad-woman, and it turned its attention on them.

I crept out from my rock and wondered how I should do this. Cut my hand now and then Fade walk up the spine of the dragon? Or Fade walk first? I had no idea. Of course, Riordan had done this to Flemeth without benefit of Fade walking. I'd been dangling from her mouth, impaled by a tooth and bleeding profusely, so I missed out on the details.

The dragon stopped moving his head for a moment and I knew what was coming next. Fortunately Harrison and Oghren figured it out too. They threw themselves out of the way of a gout of fire. Anders blasted it with a freezing spell, putting out the fire and freezing the dragon in place for a moment.

"Good job, Anders," I muttered to myself.

I had to do this and soon. We were all tired out from battling darkspawn and we still had this… Mother-thing to deal with.

I decided to cut myself first. I might not have time to do it afterwards. I quickly drew my sharp dagger across my palm. "Ow! Fuck! Shit!" It hurt, of course. I drew on the lyrium in my necklace and stepped into the Fade. Just like every other time I'd done this, everything slowed down. The blood dripping down my hand slowly crawled over it like a glove and down my blade. I ran to the dragon and hopped onto its tail and started running up it, to his back. I soon realized I was going to need both hands to get up the neck, so I sheathed my dagger and started to climb. The scales were hard and rather slippery but there were protrusions I could grab onto. I just had to stay in the Fade long enough…

I could feel the Fade dissipating around me, things were speeding up, and I wasn't ready yet, so I drew on the lyrium again and went deeper into it. I started seeing images that weren't of this world. But the dragon's neck was still there and so I climbed it. Then I was sitting just behind its head and I put my hand to where I had sheathed my dagger, ready to bury it in the dragon's brain… but my dagger was missing! Somehow while I'd been climbing I had lost it.

Well crap! I could step out of the Fade and ask someone to throw up a weapon, but chances are I'd get shaken off the dragon's back. _What do I do now? _I looked at my blood covered hand and a memory surfaced of how martial artists broke through pine boards using the side of their hand. I'd done it with my feet.

_I can do this!_

I focused deeply, imagining the molecules in the dragon's skull speeding up, turning from a hard substance into a soft one. I rose up as far as I could without losing my footing and hardened my hand, readying it for the strike. I let out a shrill scream as my hand plunged down, against the dragon's skull.

The moment my hand hit the skull I was ripped out of the Fade. I couldn't maintain myself there and do this. Everything sped up, but the force of my hand and the blood magic was enough. Somehow it punched through the dragon's skull and I felt it plunge into the slimy, hot mess of the dragon's brain.

The dragon gave a tremendous lurch as it suddenly realized what had happened, followed by wild bucking as my hand in its brain caused all sorts of random neural responses. I would have been flung off, but I was holding tight to the brain. The more it pitched around, the more the brain was being yanked, the sooner the stupid dragon would die.

One final death throe, the brain came loose from its moorings, and I tumbled off the head with my hand still clutching the gooey mass. I'd like to say it was an elegant two-point landing, but it wasn't. I landed on my back and my breath was knocked out of me. Even worse, the dragon's brain was squished under me. Who knows, perhaps it saved me from a broken back.

Anders ran to me and had his hands on me in a moment, healing the damage from the fall. "Sweet Maker… don't you ever do anything like that again! Do you hear me?" His voice was shaking.

I could only nod. I had absolutely no intention of ever getting near another dragon.

He helped me get up and then embraced me, unmindful of the dragon gore still sticking to my back. "Do you need to rest?"

"Just for a few minutes," I lied. I was desperately tired; I think we all were, but we had come this far. It was time to end this nonsense. We could rely on rejuvenations to keep going. We hadn't eaten all day, being too busy fighting, so we took the time to break out some rations and drink water. Anders cleaned the dragon brain off the back of my armor.

This reminded me of the time Riordan and I had fled from darkspawn after he'd gone scouting for them. We'd pushed ourselves for days, but rejuvenating magic had kept us going. There was a toll for overusing such magic and we would pay for it later.

Anders went through his backpack and laid out all the lyrium potions he had. "I'd feel better if I had more."

I wondered if this was his lyrium addiction issue. I'd seen that empty bottle in his bed. Was he consuming excessive quantities? I rarely drank the stuff since I was able to gather it from my necklace and it affected me so strangely. Perhaps I should speak to Harrison about it. If anyone would know about lyrium addiction he would. Yet, I did remember Wynne and Morrigan sucking down massive quantities of the stuff during intense battles.

I didn't have time to worry about that, though. We needed to move on. It was starting to get dark and I wanted to get back to Vigil's keep. Fresh worries sprang up. _Please, Maker, let my baby be all right. I'll go to the Chantry and… chant, or something._

Everyone's weariness was apparent from the groans as we got up from where we'd sat down to eat. We headed to the ruins and the large doors that sealed them. The darkspawn itch indicated we were in for another lengthy slog.

Inside, stairs led down, of course. We fought waves of darkspawn. The grubspawn were here, too. I had some poisoned chocolate read for them, if we came across a nest. There was one darkspawn in particular I could sense: The Architect. He felt more like a Warden than a darkspawn, which was very creepy.

"And so we meet again." The Architect's voice floated out over us, sounding as impassive and unemotional as always. He was at the top of a stairway, looking down on us.

"So it would seem," I replied.

The creepy ghoulish dwarf accompanying him drew her sword and looked ready to charge us, but the Architect stopped her.

"I should apologize, Commander. The last time we met I was going to explain myself. Fate, however, intervened." He floated down from the high spot to a point near us.

_How does he do that?_ "Fate? You experimented on us! You took my blood."

"I restrained you only to prevent the misunderstanding that occurred with the rest of your order," he replied.

"Yeah. That worked real swell." I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"I sent the Withered to ask for the Grey Wardens' help. I should have anticipated that you might view our approach as an attack. I am rarely able to judge how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate." He continued to speak in his dispassionate voice.

He really did seem like an alien being. It wasn't all that difficult to imagine that he was pretty clueless how humans thought or reacted. Hmmm… that got me to thinking, maybe the darkspawn were an alien life form? Perhaps we'd find a spaceship someday….

"But you bled them dry!" _Kind of like in Killer Klowns from Outer Space when they wrapped dead bodies in cotton candy and drank their blood with krazy straws. _The sci-fi plots were all playing out in my head.

"The Grey Wardens that were brought to me were already dead. I took their blood just as I took yours, because I had little choice. Things have not gone as planned."

That a darkspawn spoke about _planning _was a little spooky. I had been under the impression that the only tainted creature capable of planning was the archdemon.

"I only ask that you hear me out. If you wish to slay me afterwards… you may try," he continued.

I shrugged. "I'm listening."

"My kind as ever been driven to seek out the Old Gods. This is our nature. When we find one, a Blight is begun. Each time we attack your surface lands and each time you fight back until we are defeated."

"Yeah, not exactly a win for either of us. Go on," I urged him.

"To break the cycle, my brethren must be freed of their compulsion. For that, I need Grey Warden blood."

I frowned at that. "Do you do some sort of reverse Joining?"

"In order to become what you are, you drink the blood of my kind. To transform. Similarly, we must transform. I have created a version of your Joining that uses the blood of Grey Wardens."

"Interesting…" I began to see the possibilities. If what he was saying was true…

"You take the taint into yourself. What we take is your resistance. That is how my brethren are freed. In your blood lies their immunity against the call of the Old Gods."

"An inoculation, I suppose," I mused.

"I like my blood in my veins," Anders said.

"If this would stop the cycle of Blights., I'd be willing to donate to the cause," I turned to Anders, hoping he'd see the logic of it.

"But what else might they do with it?" He retorted.

"You could become a thrall," Harrison chimed in. He looked nauseated at the thought. "A thrall to darkspawn, Commander."

"Once they are freed," the Architect continued, "they think for themselves, they speak, they act. Some, however, have reacted poorly. They are flawed and they rage against me. The Mother gathers them to stop me… as she seeks to stop you." He paused to catch his breath. "I cannot defeat the Mother alone and I cannot free the darkspawn unless she is defeated. Our goals are the same."

"Imagine… an end to the Blights for all time," Nathaniel said. "It seems worth the risk to me."

I wanted, so wanted, the Architect to be right. I wanted to trust him. I never wanted my son to have to live in a world with Blights and archdemons. "What is the Mother anyway?"

The Architect hung his head and looked genuinely sad. "My most flawed creation. Freedom drove her mad, and she has poisoned the minds of others. She has influence with the ones who have not been freed and gathers them as an army. I do not seek to rule my brethren; I only seek to release them from their chains."

I turned away from the architect and the other Wardens and paced. _Is this worth the risk? _Clearly, whatever decision I made would be controversial. The risk was that the Architect might raise an army of new and improved darkspawn. Perhaps Blights wouldn't be the only problem we'd face… But if he were true to his word! If they stopped seeking the Old Gods, if they'd stay underground and leave the other races alone as he promised… how could I turn that down? _Goddammit! Why do I have to make this decision?_

I faced the Architect. He was truly like some weird alien creature. They were always misunderstood by mankind in all the movies I'd seen, because we couldn't communicate with them properly or understand their motivations. How many times had it worked out that they'd actually been trying to help out our race and we started a big war?

Was this a creature even capable of being deceitful? They'd only recently stumbled upon the ability to speak and plan; it seemed like deceit and subterfuge were advanced skills, ones they might not acquire for thousands of years, perhaps never. By then, perhaps they'd go extinct.

I hated to base such a monumental decision on sci-fi movie plots, but it was the best I had to go on.

"I accept your offer," I said, feeling a whole lot better for having made the decision.

Anders turned to me wearing a deep frown. "What if he's wrong? What if this doesn't stop the Blight, but makes things worse?"

"What if he's right? I don't want Danny, or his children, or anyone's children, to have to live through another Blight. My instinct is that this is the right choice." _Please Anders… I really need your support right now._

"I agree with the Commander," Nathaniel said. "How can anything be as bad as a Blight?"

Anders looked at me with a piercing, evaluative gaze and I silently begged him to see it my way. He finally nodded and squeezed my hand. "I trust you," he said quietly.

I looked over at Harrison. He looked concerned, but he seemed disinclined to object further. Oghren simply shrugged. "Give me something to kill. Him, the Mother, I don't bloody care."

_I love you, Oghren. You are so incredibly uncomplicated. _I had an almost uncontrollable urge to hug my dwarven friend, but I remembered the smell.

"Thank you, Commander. I realize what a leap of faith this is for you. I hope I prove worthy of your trust," the Architect said.

"Me too, buddy. Me too. Now, where's this Mother?" I wanted to get this over with.

"She lies ahead." He pointed in a direction and we started out once again, hopefully for the last bit of this tremendous slog.

We prepared the best we could, not really knowing what we were in for. There were fresh spells rejuvenating our stamina, water splashed on the face and down the throat, poisoned sweets readied for the grubspawn, buckles tightened on armor, grips cleaned of gore. It seemed, at last, we were ready.

The way to the Mother was surprisingly clear. There was little resistance left. _Could it truly be this easy?_ My gut told me _no way._

Then we were there. A broodmother awaited us, waving her insectile arms, looking almost asleep. Of course, our approach roused her.

She awoke; raving and spitting from lips not designed to form words.

"Ten," Anders said to Oghren. "I win. Pay up, little man."

"Nope. Look, the tentacles were hiding the bottom pair. Twelve. You owe me twenty thousand sovereigns, Twitch!" The dwarf laughed hard and unsheathed his axe.

I looked between the pair, wondering at the nature of their bet, and the size of it. "Anders?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Just a friendly wager on how many nipples she'd have. Don't worry, he'll never remember to collect, he's drunk."

I shook my head and tried to figure out what the Mother was saying, but it was just a lot of raving and spitting. The Architect showed up and then the Mother accused him of starting the Blight.

"You… Oh really?" I was starting to second-guess myself yet again, for the billionth time that day.

"It was unfortunate. I attempted my Joining ritual on Urthemiel. My hope was that this would free all darkspawn, unravel the curse. But I was unlucky."

My head started to pound. "Crap," I muttered.

"Is it not the way of the Grey Wardens to do what must be done in the name of combating the Blight? The Blight is a menace, both for your people and mine. To end it requires sacrifice and risk," he said, his voice still emotionless.

_Sacrifice! Maker damn him__.__ What did he sacrifice?_ I felt an echo of the pain I experienced when Riordan plummeted to his death. _Did he have darkspawn buddies that died in the Blight?_ I was having a hard time believing darkspawn could even form emotional attachments. Still… somehow I believed him. _This creature is incapable of deceit._

I looked at my Wardens. "I've heard enough talk. Let's kill this nipply nightmare."

Nathaniel nodded and nocked an arrow. He let it fly and it hit the broodmother square in a - well, kind of hard to miss actually – boob.

"Aaaaahhhhh!" she screamed. The skin around her mouth split open revealing an oversized maw.

Tentacles erupted out of the ground around us, grasping for us, but we were ready. We moved out of the way, looking for rocky protrusions where the tentacles couldn't reach us. I heard her screaming for her children to come to her and I had a sickening feeling I knew what would respond.

Pure instinct guided me. I threw down my pack and pulled out the collection of poisoned sweets I had brought. I threw them well away from us and watched as the Mother's children burst out of their cocoons and swarmed them, completely ignoring us.

"My chillllldren! My beautiful chilllllldren!" she cried. She aimed a shimmering green spit wad at me but I ducked it. "You're killing my babies!"

This time the grubspawn weren't taking the sweets home to share with their siblings, they were dying as they ate them. That was fine with me. I just didn't want them swarming us while we fought their mother.

Anders flung elemental spells at the Mother while Harrison, clearly staggered by the grotesqueness of the creature, advanced on her along with Oghren. Nathaniel found a niche where he could fire arrows. I figured the best place for me was to do whatever damage I could to the tentacles.

Every now and then a sticky green spit ball would land on one of us and I'd flush it off with a blast of water conjured from my hands. The stuff was highly corrosive. I hoped none of us got any in the face.

The fight was tough, but certainly no worse than the dragon we'd killed outside. With the grubspawn distracted by the poisoned sweets, the Mother looked like she wouldn't last long. I looked over at Anders and he flashed me smile and a wink. I turned back to tentacle duty and sliced through a few more. They writhed around and were tough to kill, but every now and then I'd shear one off at the ground and feel like I was making headway.

I was distracted by a particular loud scream from the Mother and saw Oghren bury his axe in her head. _How did he manage to climb up there?_ I wondered.

"Good one, Oghren!" I shouted. The tentacles I'd been fighting wilted to the ground and shriveled as the Mother died. I ran up to join Oghren and Harrison and check them for injuries, when I heard a scrabbling, skittering sound - the sound of claws on rock - and then a sickening crunch.

I turned in time to see a grubspawn knock down Anders and sink its fangs into his chest. Anders shouted in pain and I froze in horror. _Maker, don't do this to me again._

"Anders!" I screamed, finally able to respond. Opening my connection to the Fade, I stepped to his side and plunged my daggers into the grub. It shrieked with the wounds but didn't retreat.

"Die you sick fuck!" I plunged my daggers into again and again but it clung to his chest with persistence. Finally it stopped moving and Nathaniel rolled it off Anders. One of the vermin's fangs was still sticking out of his chest.

"Oh Maker," I gasped. The fang seemed to have impaled his chest and it looked too close to his heart. "Anders?" I cupped his cheek with my hand and he groaned and looked at me.

"You'll need to pull that out for me, Lucy." He groaned and I could see a red stain rapidly spreading over his robe.

"I can do this," I whispered to myself. I could heal, a little anyway. I'd been working with Anders some and my skills had grown. I put my fingers around the base of the fang and began to heal as I drew it out. Blood spurted with the removal, but I slowed it down and eventually it stopped. I placed my hands on him and used magic to search him to see if there were more wounds. Something wasn't right but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Anders, I can't figure it out. I need your help." I picked up his hand and put it top of his chest. "Where else are you wounded?"

"I can't, Lucy. I'm out of mana. Get me a lyrium potion."

I scrambled over to his pack and started pulling stuff out of it. Empty bottles. I pulled them out and carefully set them aside. I couldn't find any with lyrium in it. "Did you use it all?" I could feel my panic starting to mount.

He groaned. "I might have."

I looked at Harrison with pleading eyes. "Please tell me you have some?"

Harrison shook his head. "I'm sorry, Commander, I don't. I've been weaning myself off the stuff."

"Oh god," I breathed. I knelt beside Anders again. By now everyone had crowded around him. I pulled off my lyrium necklace and wrapped his hand around it. "Pull the mana out of this, like I do. Can you feel it there?"

He shook his head. "I can't get to it." He managed a little smile. "You are a strange little witch, you know. Help me up. Maybe I can figure this out without magic."

Nathaniel and I helped him sit up. He grimaced like he were still in pain and his breathing was labored. "I think there's still part of the fang in me. It must've broken off in there. My lungs have some fluid in them. If it doesn't shift around, if my lungs don't fill too much, I think I can make it back to the keep."

I felt so damned helpless. Why hadn't I spent more time learning healing from him? Why did I not seem to have the same natural aptitude for that as I had for so many other forms of magic?

Nathaniel and Harrison helped Anders to his feet and half carried him as we climbed up the stairs, out of the ruins. His condition deteriorated despite the magic I used to heal him. I feared that the fragment might pierce his heart.

"Gently!" I scolded Nathaniel and Harrison anytime Anders took a bump or jostle. I had warring impulses to hurry our progress, but feared that doing so would make Anders worse. Then I had a fear that the keep might be besieged by darkspawn, or had… _No, dammit, the keep hasn't fallen. _It was our best chance. I thought it might be about a two hour ride in daylight; at night… we'd have to go slower because horses don't see all that well at night and their gait would jostle Anders too much.

"How are you doing?" I asked him every few minutes.

At first he'd raise his head and muster a smile. "I'll be fine. Don't worry." After a while he stopped answering me. Even though he was practically being carried, the stairs were still taxing.

"Nathaniel, when we get outside, I'll turn into a horse and you and Anders can ride me back to the keep. You'll have to keep him from falling off. My gait is gentler."

Nathaniel nodded. "Good idea. You're a big horse too, that helps."

"Can you do it without tack? Just use your knees to steer me."

"No problem."

I was grateful that Nathaniel was such an excellent horseman, a trait he didn't get from his father.

"If he seems to be getting really bad, let me know. Get off and I'll change form and heal him," I said.

We reached the top of the stairs and I transformed to the largest horse I thought I could become. I'd be strong enough to carry both men and my gait would be more gentle. Plus, I knew the Paso Fino trot which was a good fast trot and quite gentle. I thought that might be our best bet.

"Harrison and Oghren, go get the horses and bring them back to the keep as quick as you can safely come. Hopefully we'll be there before you are."

"Maker speed you, commander. Andraste's blessing on you, Anders," Harrison said.

Oghren nodded. "We'll be right behind you. Take care of him, Lucy, he still owes me 20,000 gold."

Nathaniel mounted my back and then Harrison helped Anders mount ahead of him. I felt a pair of hands clutch hold of my mane.

"We're ready, Commander," Nathaniel said and kicked my side gently with his foot.

I started out slowly and gathered speed carefully, finally breaking into a trot when I was certain the men on my back weren't going to lose their seats.

It was torturous not being able to see Anders and monitor his condition. I had to trust that Nathaniel would use good judgment and stop me soon enough. I couldn't even ask him questions. _Is his breathing labored? How's his color? Is his pulse strong? Skin warm or clammy? _I could hear them talking a little, but Anders sounded very weak. I was going to go insane. All I could do was try to go quickly and be very careful not to stumble or trip.

Fortunately the moon was bright that night and I couldn't smell any darkspawn. I might have counted it a lovely night under other circumstances. The weather was mild and the roads were dry. Spring was coming and judging from the sounds of crickets and frogs, northern Ferelden was preparing for it.

We had been traveling for nearly an hour when Nathaniel asked me to stop. He lifted Anders off my back and carried him to the side of the road where he propped him up against a rock. I transformed back to human and got to assess his condition for myself.

Anders was very pale and his breathing was labored. The worst part was he was unconscious so we couldn't talk to him. I pressed my ear to his chest and listened. It was clear he had fluid in his lungs; I could hear it rattling when he breathed.

"Stay with me Anders," I said softly. I cast what magic I could to try to heal him. It seemed to help some.

His eyes opened a little and his mouth formed a weak little smile. "It's all right, Lucy." He raised his hand and stroked my cheek then his hand fell to his side like it weighed a ton. "If I don't make it, promise me you won't blame yourself."

I couldn't stop the tears. "Stop talking like that. We're almost to the keep," I lied, I had no idea how far we had yet to go, perhaps another hour. _Then what? Who there could heal him? Maybe with some lyrium he could heal himself… it was our best hope._

"We've got to go faster," Nathaniel said. "The sooner we get to the keep, the better." I could read the subtext in Nathaniel's eyes; he didn't think Anders would make it otherwise.

"I'll be all right," Anders murmured. "Nate won't let me fall."

I bit my lip hard, thinking of the trade-off and the toll it would take on Anders. "Can you keep him seated if he's unconscious?"

Nathaniel nodded. "I think so. We've got to try it." He looked truly worried and it only increased my own anxiety.

"All right, but if he starts to fail stop me. Give an update every now and then." I cast rejuvenation on myself and Nathaniel. I hoped it could keep me going at top speed the entire way. I tried not to think of what I was doing to my body, fighting through the entire day then most of the night and now this mad dash back to the keep. It didn't matter; I was healthy. I would recover.

I transformed once again and Nathaniel somehow got Anders onto my back by himself then mounted up behind him. I slowly worked my way up to a gallop, hoping the gait wasn't too jolting for Anders.

"We're fine, Commander, keep going," Nathaniel's voice reassured me every now and then.

I kept it up for mile after mile. I was sweating hard, but my big horse lungs were up to the challenge. Eventually, I had to let up the pace, but only until I caught my wind, then I was back at top speed. My hooves, biting into the hard-packed, dirt road, sent dust flying and it coated me liberally. The sound, as I thundered down the road, mesmerized me. My attention was so focused on the road I barely noticed that I had to swerve around inert forms in the roadway, or the stench that should be all too familiar to me.

"Darkspawn, Lucy," Nathaniel warned me. "Dead, so far. I don't sense any live ones."

His voice broke through my trance and I looked around me as I galloped. _Maker, they did attack the keep._ _Danny!_ The thought of him put more urgency into my gait. From what I could see, and smell, none of the bodies so far were human.

Suddenly my nostrils were overwhelmed with an oddly familiar smell: Kentucky Fried chicken? _What on earth?_ I looked up and realized that we were nearly to the keep. The battlements were fully staffed with archers and I even saw an array of ballista trained on us.

"Open the gate!" Nathaniel shouted as we approached. "Open the gate! We're Wardens!"

I heard someone pick up the order and shout it again. "The Wardens are back! Open the gate!"

"I need help here!" Nathaniel yelled as we entered the courtyard.

A pair of guards immediately came to him and they carefully lifted Anders off my back.

"You might want to wait a bit to transform," Nathaniel whispered to me. "Go to the stables to do it."

"Screw that!" Well, I tried to say that. It came out as a very defiant whinny. Everyone's attention was focused on Anders and Nathaniel. I transformed back into a human, a very sweaty, tired, and dusty human. I heard a gasp and a cry of surprise and turned to see the stable boy had been looking right at me.

"We'll discuss this later, lad," I said sternly. "In the meantime, keep it to yourself. Understand?"

He nodded, his mouth gaping, and his eyes wide with shock.

I ran into the keep after Nathaniel.

Varel noticed me. "Commander? I didn't see you ride up. Maker…" He noticed how sweaty and dirty I was. "Suzanne! Fetch a change of clothes for the Warden Commander and one of her towels. Get someone to boil water for the wounded Warden, bring up clean linens, and send for the medic."

"Thanks." I nodded to Varel. "Take Anders to my room," I ordered. "Varel, quick report. Is everything all right here? I saw darkspawn bodies out there. Where's Loghain. Is… is my son all right?"

Varel nodded. "Teyrn Loghain marshaled a formidable defense against the darkspawn. They tried to batter down the gates but they held. The spawn fell to boiling oil, Dworkin's bombs, and arrows. The armored ogres were put down with ballista bolts." He chuckled grimly. "Not even an armored ogre can withstand one of those bolts."

_Boiling oil? That might account for the fast-food smell. _"Where are Loghain and the other Wardens?" I asked casting anxious looks up the stairs, wanting to be with Anders.

"Loghain is pursuing the shreds of the darkspawn army, what little was left of it. Sigrun went with him, but Justice remained here to defend the keep." Varel extended a hand and put it on my arm. "Your son is fine. He was never in any danger."

I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Maker. Now if I can only do something for Anders."

His face looked sorrowful. "I am sorry, Commander. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

I nodded. "Thanks, Varel. If there's a servant or two nearby that would be helpful. I'm not sure there's much a medic can do. Ah, I know. We're in desperate need of lyrium. Justice might know where we've stashed some. Have him find some for me."

"Right away." He nodded courteously and left.

Anders was already laid out on my bed when I got up there and Nathaniel was pulling off his boots. I ran to his side and drew on my necklace for mana. My last rejuvenation had worn off and I think only adrenalin was keeping me going. I cast it on myself one more time. Nathaniel looked exhausted, too. "Nathaniel, you should get some rest."

He shook his head. "No, I'll stay up until Harrison and Oghren get here." He looked at Anders, his concern obvious. "What can you do for him?"

I rejuvenated Nathaniel as well. Then I put my hands on Anders and tried to find what was going on with him internally. I had an impression of _hardness_… something near his heart. It must have been the fragment of fang that broke off. As far as I knew, there was only one way to fix this and I simply lacked the skills. Not even all those episodes of _Dr. G., Medical Examiner_, _House, MD_, or _Mystery Diagnosis_ I had watched were of any use to me when it came to performing surgery.

But if I could heal him enough, perhaps he would regain consciousness and he could heal himself… if he could heal a foreign object pressing on his heart. With Nathaniel's help I got his robe off and examined his chest. There was a pink hole where the fang had entered, but my healing had sealed it up. Placing my hands on his chest, I used all my mana healing him. I couldn't pinpoint my heals like he could, they went willy-nilly into him. My healing ability compared to his was like comparing a flashlight to a laser beam.

Still, it was enough to help at least a little. He drew a sharp breath and his eyes opened a bit. I grabbed his hand and he squeezed mine. "Anders?" I was overcome with emotion at seeing that sliver of his brown eyes, and the tears started down my face. I kissed him gently on the cheek. "We're going to get you good as new, Anders. You just need to stay with me. Justice is finding a lyrium potion then you can heal yourself, all right?"

Anders said nothing; he just looked at me through half-closed eyes. "You're a mess, Lucy," he said after a long silence. He chuckled and winced in pain. He brought his finger up to my face and drew it across my cheek. "Tsk, you've really let yourself go, sweetheart." He held up the finger for me to see the dirt on it. "Get cleaned up. I'm not going anywhere."

My heart ached to see him trying to joke. I smiled lamely and got control of the water-works. "Nathaniel…"

"I'll wait outside, Commander," he volunteered.

He left just as a servant bustled in with towels. She rummaged through my drawers and found clean smalls and a gown for me to wear.

"Anything else, my lady?" she asked.

I shook my head and she left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Anders watched me fill the tub and undress. When I turned to look at him again, his eyes were shut but he was breathing somewhat normally. Perhaps he was asleep. I eased into the hot water, wishing I could soak, but feeling the need for urgency. I washed quickly and scrubbed my hair. I was out of the tub and dressed in record time.

I checked on Anders, who was sleeping and seemed stable, then went get Nathaniel. He was outside with Justice and they were talking quietly.

"How is Anders, Commander?" Justice asked, handing me two bottles of lyrium.

"He seems somewhat stable right now. He is asleep." I gestured for the men to come in.

"I'll see about getting us some food and drink," Nathaniel offered.

I nodded realizing we hadn't really eaten since we left the keep, almost a day ago. I sat next to Anders and put my hand on him to check his condition. His breathing seemed good, but his color was pale and his skin still felt clammy. He opened his eyes again.

"Hello, beautiful," he whispered.

I leaned over and kissed his forehead softly. "Hi, handsome. Justice found some lyrium. You can drink it and heal yourself."

Anders raised his hand weakly and touched my cheek, a faint sad smile on his lips. "I can't, Lucy. That piece of fang needs to come out. It's pressing against my heart, maybe it's even pierced it a little." He coughed and I could hear the fluid that was accumulating in his lungs. His hand groped for mine and he squeezed it. His eyes looked resigned to his fate. "My lungs are going to fill with fluid and I'll eventually suffocate."

"No, Anders," I whispered, shaking my head. "You're an amazing healer. I've seen you work miracles. You just need to… you just need to do it to yourself now." _God damn it all! This can't happen again._

"I'm sorry, Lucy," he coughed again. "If it were someone else, I could open their chest and probably save them… maybe. Fifty-fifty." His voice was getting wispy. His eyes slipped closed and his head fell to the side.

_Dammit! _I bit my lip, trying to keep the hysteria I was feeling at bay. In the background I heard hooves clattering into the courtyard, but I paid them no mind. "Anders… no. I won't give up." I knew that I couldn't possibly cut him open, I'd just kill him all the sooner. _There has to be a solution… there's always a solution, if I could just think of it._

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Oghren and Harrison came through the door. "How's Twitch doing, Lucy?" Oghren asked immediately. "Is he going to make it?"

"I'll be right back, Anders." I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him softly. I didn't know if he could hear me or not.

I got up and gestured Justice, Oghren and Harrison to a corner across the room. "He says he can't heal himself. There's a bit of fang left in his chest and it has to be removed. He can't do it himself and I don't know of anyone else with the skill to do that and the talent to heal him." The tears began leaking out again. "If you know of anyone… maybe an apostate, or just a very skilled healer. Please tell me you know someone who could… anyone who could help him." I ended on a sobbing gasp.

Harrison grasped my arm. "I'm sorry, Commander, I don't know any apostates… they tend to stay far away from my sort." He nearly said something then stopped himself and looked conflicted. He shook his head as if arguing with himself.

"Harrison, what is it? If you've got an idea, then tell me. I'm desperate."

He looked at Justice briefly, then at me. "I'm not all that familiar with the Fade, Justice knows more about this topic than I do, but if you were both in the Fade together you could… No, this is crazy. Something like that would be very dangerous." Harrison stopped talking and seemed to reach a decision. "Anders saved my life, Commander. I shouldn't even suggest this but I owe him." He looked tormented by even mentioning the possibility.

"Damn you, Harrison. I order you to tell me, I don't care how crazy it sounds. I need to at least know."

Justice held up a hand. "I think I know what he's talking about. Spirits in the Fade can inhabit humans, just as I am in Kristoff's body. It's possible that, if you could locate Anders in the Fade, he might be able to possess your body and heal himself."

Harrison nodded. "That's what I was thinking of. It's a terrible gamble, though. I never heard of it being done."

Justice nodded. "The risk would be grave."

I turned away from them and stared into the fire. I hadn't been able to do anything for Riordan, Zevran, or even Bendrick. How could I stand by and see another man I loved perish? But what about Danny? Danny could go on without me. He'd have a wonderful guardian in Loghain. Even Alistair and Anora would be looking out for him, but Anders couldn't survive without me. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't try to save him.

Nathaniel interrupted my brooding when he came in carrying a tray of food. Several servants followed behind him also carrying trays. "Here we are Wardens, a little late night snack."

Oghren pointed to the window. "Almost morning by the looks of it." Sure enough, the sky was just beginning to lighten.

"What's happening?" Nathaniel asked, looking at our anxious faces.

"Commander's thinking of switching bodies with Anders so he can heal himself. Or… wait if he's in her body, he'd be healing her… I think." Oghren said, while pouring himself ale from a pitcher the servants had brought up. "I'd volunteer to go, but no one ever invites dwarves to these Fade parties."

"You can't possibly be seriously considering that." Nathaniel said, his brows furrowing.

I picked up a husk of bread and layered it with meat, intentionally not answer Nathaniel's question.. "If anything should happen to me, you are to be Warden-Commander. Loghain will have guardianship of Danny." I turned to Justice. "How do I go about finding Anders in the Fade? Shit… I don't even know how to get there on purpose."

Harrison cleared his throat. "Anders has a book that details the process for finding someone. Perhaps that would help."

I held up a hand. "Get the book."

Nathaniel pulled me aside while I was devouring my food. "Commander… Lucy… look, this is just crazy. I know Anders wouldn't allow you to do this. Go over there and ask him if he wants you to do this."

My temper flared. I glared at him while I chewed the massive bite I'd just taken. I swallowed it before I'd really chewed it enough and it hurt going down. "I don't give a fuck, Nate," I growled. "You tell me how many times I'm supposed to lose the man I love and not be able to do a damn thing about it. The _one_ time I can do something I'm not going to idly stand about and watch him die." I looked around for Harrison. "Where's that goddamn book?" I shouted.

Harrison returned holding the book. "Here it is. Anders had the chapter marked already. Chapter Ten, _Locating Someone in the Fade_."

I took the book and scanned the first page. I wondered if Anders had ever done this. I read quickly, just scanning it. The spell wasn't complicated, but it required lots of lyrium. I could probably do it. I sat down by the fire and read it again, committing it to memory. There was only one problem remaining… _how the hell do I get to the Fade while I'm still aware?_ I could Fade step, true, but I never felt I could… oh, make a left turn instead of a right, and stay in the Fade. I had always visualized the Fade as a light behind a door that I opened and closed. Ever since my experiments with lyrium I'd been afraid of opening that door the full way for fear of what my half-wild magic might do.

"Justice… how do I go to the Fade without falling asleep?" _He has to know! He just has to._

Justice shook his head. "I don't know how mages do it. I believe I can do it and I could probably take you along with me."

I went over to the bed where Anders lay unconscious. His breathing was looking more labored. His last words about his lungs filling with fluid and how he would suffocate echoed through my head. I'd seen my own parents die like that…

"Not you, too, Anders. I won't lose you." I put my face next to his and whispered into his ear, hoping somehow he could hear me. "I'm coming for you, sweetheart. We have a cunning plan."

I stood up and dashed away the tears that were dripping down my cheeks. "I'm ready, Justice." I picked up his hand, for once not minding he was a reanimated corpse, and squeezed it. "Thanks a lot. What do I need to do?"

There was a blinding flash of light and I recognized the door to the Fade I had always visualized. It was standing wide open and just beyond, backlit by a bright swirling mass of chaotic light and noise, I could see Justice beckoning to me.

_To be continued__…_

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **Reviewers are teh awesome! My fingers are fueled by comments. A few of your words in exchange for 10,000. Such a deal!_

_My thanks to my lovely beta and friend, Biff McLaughlin, whose own works are a joy to read. My buddy, and inspiration, Zevgirl... hat tip (we'll get back to Nathaniel soon, I promise!)_

_Now, about the story: Grim, I know! It's always darkest before the dawn, or right before they take the sack off your head when you've been kidnapped and transported to secret location._

_Speaking of Skyrim, I've started a new story: "We Know". It is about the young, inexperienced dovahkin getting mixed up with bored vampires in the Dark Brotherhood. I think it should be accessible to non-Skyrim players too._

_Oh yes, I got a account. I'm publishing my writing related notes there now. If you should have any questions related to my stories, feel free to post them there. I think there's a spot to post comments and such. Url = zuteness dot tumblr dot com_


	17. Even More Blighted Sheep Part III

We interrupt this cliff-hanger with breaking news from Antiva! Your regularly scheduled program will resume afterward.

**Don Bertollo**

First she unwound like a child's top then he grabbed her hand and spun her back into his embrace. His hand ran over her silken leg as she kicked it out and wrapped it around his waist for a moment, then pulled away again. Her dark, snapping eyes met his. _Ah, this one can dance! _The pair of dancers moved in the violent, sultry movements of the tango, a dance imported from Rivain.

The Crows stayed out of the master's way as he danced. The don's temper was legendary and his passion for dance was unmatched… until tonight.

"How did Ignacio hide you from me all this time… hmmm?" the Crow master spoke into her ear as they came together in another move.

The woman smiled mysteriously before she pulled away again. "I can only guess that Ignacio wanted to surprise you."

Striding around the dark, Rivaini beauty, clapping his hands in time to his stomping feet, his eyes nearly devoured her whole. There was little that her tight dress could hide from his eyes. She was a Crow, a trained assassin, so her graceful arms were muscular, yet feminine. Her bosom was small, another testament to her physical life.

The Crow master's mouth twitched with a small smile. "I think you must join my cell, my lovely Rivaini. Ignacio is weak. He doesn't have the strength to survive this war. He's tried to stay neutral while everyone else fights, but eventually he'll be forced to take a side." Don Bertollo's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps even tonight."

Around them were several Crow masters and their cells. This group was celebrating a truce. One that Master Ignacio had worked long and hard to achieve. The warring Crows had lain down their daggers in a rare gesture of goodwill, coming together to celebrate and sign a nonaggression pact. Not a one of them believed it would last, but it provided an opportunity to regroup and seek new alliances.

Her dark eyes held the master's. So intent was he on the dance, on the woman, that he never saw the ring on her finger turn or heard the tiny click as a sharp needle shot out the false stone.

"Ah, Don Bertollo, I suspect you are right," she said, her voice a pleasing alto. "Master Ignacio will have to make a move and quite soon." She spun into his arms again and her hand wrapped around in neck for stability as he lifted her off the floor.

The tiny needle pierced him. It was barely noticeable. No one but a Crow would be alarmed by such an innocuous prick. The Crow master let go of the Rivaini beauty, whose name he didn't even know, and reached for his daggers but already his reactions were slowing. The minute amount of poison worked quickly and his head was swimming.

"Ah!" he shouted, or tried to; it merely came out as a gasp. "My Crows, to me! We are betrayed." His warning was a whisper from faltering lungs. It was too late; archers armed with crossbows had appeared on the balconies and the Rivaini woman was armed with a slender dagger. It slipped between his ribs and found his heart.

"You see, I was right," she smirked, addressing the dying master. "Ignacio has taken a side in this conflict." She turned to find Ignacio looking down on the dance floor. They exchanged nods. "His own." She gracefully stepped over the dying master and slipped away in the ensuing battle. After tonight, Ignacio's cell would be in the middle of the Crow wars that he and the Rivaini woman, Daniella, had started with rumor, deception, and a bit of murder here and there.

~o~o~o~

Lucy forced her way past howling, gale-strength winds and into the bright light of the Fade where Justice stood beckoning her. He didn't look like the Justice she had come to know; he wasn't wearing Kristoff's body any longer. He was back to the form they'd first seen in the Fade when they'd been trapped there by one of the Mother's minions.

As soon as she passed through the portal, the winds ceased, but the landscape looked strange as it always did in the Fade. "You could have given me some warning you were going to do that!"

"You said you were ready. It seemed unnecessary to discuss it further." He looked around the landscape. "It is strange. I found your world beautiful, something you humans take for granted, but I find myself feeling strangely comfortable back in the Fade. It is as if… I can't quite describe it. This seems like a better environment for me."

"You feel at home here?" she suggested.

"Yes, that is it, I suppose. It is like I've returned to my home. I didn't realize that I had missed it."

"I on the other hand, feel distinctly out of place here." She looked around at all the oddities. "We need to find Anders. I'm supposed to cast a spell..." She concentrated on the horizon and spoke the words of the spell, finding that mana came to her with no effort. A golden ribbon unspooled from her hand, leading down a long roadway for as far as she could see. "I guess there are some advantages to being in the actual source of our power, rather than having to reach across dimensions, veils, or whatever, to access it." There was a certain effortlessness to casting in the Fade. "Well, this appears to be leading us somewhere. Let's not waste time!"

She began to run down the road but Justice grabbed her arm.

"Run if you like, however, you won't get there any faster," he told her, "you'll just be sweaty and out of breath when you arrive."

"What? Why not?"

"Distance and time are the same thing here. It is going to take the same amount of time no matter what speed you travel at."

Lucy's brow furrowed. "So if we stand still we'll still get there?"

"No, you must travel, but speed is irrelevant. A stroll, jog, or even a sprint will get you there at exactly the same time as it is measured in Thedas." Justice seemed clearly unperturbed by the strangeness of the Fade.

She shook her head and slowed down, her anxiety still making her want to go quickly. "All right, this place has some weird physics, that's all I can say. I suppose I should have expected it."

They traveled some ways down the road and rounded a bend, bypassing by an ancient ruin. Lucy looked it over briefly but her attention was fixed on the golden ribbon she was following.

"Lucy, over here!" A familiar masculine voice shouted.

"Anders?" She turned abruptly to scan the ruins. He was running toward them, a big grin on his face.

She took a step, ready to break into a run when Justice put a restraining hand on her arm. "A demon. Pay it no mind, Warden."

"Lucy!" the Anders-demon called. "Wait up!"

Justice stopped and turned to the imposter. "Begone lowly hobgoblin. She isn't fooled by your tricks!" He drew a shimmering sword of Fade-i-ness and waved it menacingly.

"Are you sure that isn't him?" she whispered.

Justice frowned at her. "I should know a demon when I see one. Do you doubt me?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, absolutely not. I suppose I just want to see him so badly that I'm projecting my desires… in a manner of speaking."

He resumed walking down the road and she followed after. "That makes you vulnerable to their deceit. It is a good thing I came with you. I have no such desires that can be exploited."

She walked beside him, thinking. "Are you sure about that? It seems to me you expressed a few desires, but one in particular. You desire justice, don't you? Are you sure you can't be exploited?"

He walked beside her quietly, thinking hard. "Not here. Demons are uninterested in spirits, we have nothing to offer them. On your world… perhaps I could be exploited."

She nodded. "People are always doing things in the name of justice. Sometimes what people called justice is really vengeance." She looked intently at the shimmering spirit beside her. "Justice isn't a binary condition, you know? It is a complex set of human values, definitely not an absolute. By itself, justice is cold and unreasoning, it needs to be tempered with mercy." Lucy brightened and smiled impishly. "Hey, maybe there's a pretty lady spirit here called Mercy. You two could hook up. I bet you'd be a fine pair! We could double date."

As much as a being of energy and light could, it turned to Lucy and glared at her. "Is this what your people call humor? Spirits don't _hook up_."

Lucy shrugged. "Well why not? Seriously, you should seek her out. I think she'd be a good for you."

The pair followed the golden ribbon for what seemed a long time, or long distance, arguing about spirits and _hooking up_. The ribbon finally led them to a parking lot.

Lucy stopped in her tracks when she recognized where they were. A sob wrenched itself from her throat. "He came here… he knew somehow this was where I said farewell to Riordan. He…" She stopped crying and a look of amazement formed on her face. "Wait, how would he know that? Did I tell him?"

Justice watched her, not comprehending anything she was saying or why she was crying. "I would suggest that you carry on with your plan, Commander. Time outside the Fade does move more slowly, but we have been here for a while. His condition will continue to deteriorate."

"Wait here, Justice. We'll be out in a…" she wanted to say minute but who know whether such a thing had any significance here, "…short unit of time."

She walked across the parking lot, gravel crunching under her shoes. As she got nearer the building she changed. Her long, Fereldan gown became a short red skirt that barely covered her butt. Her sensible shoes became strappy sandals with impossibly high heels, her bodice changed into a pink spandex tube-top, and her breasts grew.

"Good grief!" she huffed. "This must be Anders's dream. I'd never wear this. I look like a color-blind hooker." Even worse, she was commando under the micro-miniskirt. Another incongruity struck her: _How does Anders know about spandex tube-tops?_ She shook her head, putting the question on hold.

Anders was sitting at the bar where… _We sat together at that table. _The memory bubbled up from somewhere. The dream superimposed on a dream was confusing. Lucy shook her head, trying to clear the muddle. She walked to Anders's table and sat down. He stared into his drink, muttering, not looking up, but she wasn't surprised. The book had said that magic helped to draw the dreamer's attention. Her finger flared softly in warm, comforting magic, and she drew it down his forearm.

"Anders, sweetheart… see me," she said.

"Lucy!" He rose from the table and pulled her out of her chair into a long, passionate kiss. One hand wrapped around her back, the other working its way down to her ass. "Maker, you look hot."

She pulled away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Anders… not in public." Then, remembering this was his dream and none of the people around them were real, the discomfort eased somewhat. Still, she knew it was important to get him inside her body as soon as possible. How they were going to accomplish that, she wasn't exactly certain. Hopefully Justice had some idea.

"Darling," she said softly, caressing his cheek. "We have something very important to do. We need to get you into my body."

A soft, feral growl came from Anders throat. "Indeed we do," he said softly. He let go of Lucy and swept the top of their table clear. Silverware, a vase with an exotic flower, and a pair of menus went flying.

"Sir! Please!" a waiter objected. There were little gasps of shock from the other restaurant guests.

Anders paid them no heed whatsoever. "I've waited a long time for this, Lucy." He began unbuttoning his shirt then lost patience and ripped it open, spraying button everywhere.

_Oh dear, that might have been the wrong choice of words, _Lucy thought. "No, no, Anders, darling, listen to me." She caught his face in her hands and directed his eyes into hers. "I mean, we need to switch bodies. You can use my body to heal yourself. Justice is waiting outside, he'll help us do it."

Anders shook his head. "I don't need help doing it, Lucy." He reached out and grabbed the top of her pink-spandex tube and began to tug it down, a breast, then two, popped free of the pink top. "I can do _it _just fine, all on my own."

Lucy pulled up her top, stuffing herself back into the impossibly tight spandex. "You don't want our first time to be like this do you? In front of all these people? I promise you, if you come with me and do what I ask… I will make it very worth your while." Her eyebrow rose and she tilted her head to the door. "Very… very worth your while." _Come on, Anders._

Anders's eyes dilated and a grin grew on his face. "Oh really? How worth it?"

_Dammit Anders, just come on!_ Lucy was getting impatient, but Anders's id was obviously very much in control of this dream. She slowly licked her lips seductively and began to walk toward the door leading to the parking lot. "You'll just have to come and find out," she threw over her shoulder and crooked a finger to beckon him.

"Maker… yes!" he whispered and followed her like a puppy following a piece of bacon.

Lucy stayed just out of arms reach and went out the door first, holding her breath that he would follow. "Be ready, Justice!" she warned him.

Anders came through the door and Lucy waited for him. He swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately. His hands trailed over her butt, then reversed course, pulling the back of her skirt up, over her pantiless backside.

Justice stepped forward and placed a hand on them both.

"Get off, Justice. She's mine. Go find your own," Anders growled.

"Just do it!" Lucy said, panic rising in her voice. _Is this going to even work? What if we get stuck here?_

Justice's form shimmered more than normal, looking like he was half-static, half-energy. He concentrated hard and channeled a tremendous amount of energy into the pair, hoping he was sending them out of the Fade and exchanging their bodies. It was something he had never even heard of anyone doing. "I'm trying, Commander." There was a tremendous burst of energy that threw all three of them… somewhere.

~o~o~o~

Lucy moaned and stirred. Her eyes cracked open and she took a tentative look. _Back in Thedas, good. _She sat up and looked down at herself and saw her own body. "Shit!" she said loudly.

Nathaniel looked at her anxiously. "Anders? Is that you?"

"No! It's me, Lucy!" Her face crumpled. "It didn't work. Oh, Maker!" Her eyes filled with tears and she looked distraught.

_Yes, it did. Well, something worked…_

Lucy looked around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. It sounded like Anders. She looked at his body but he was still unconscious and, if anything, his conditioned had worsened.

Justice sat up from where he'd fallen on the floor; he also looked worse. His absence from his body had drastically speeded up his decomposition. "Did it work?" he asked, looking at Lucy anxiously.

"No."

_Yes._

There it was again! Anders's voice. "Anders?" Lucy said. Her brow furrowed as a look of puzzlement crossed her face.

Nathaniel looked at her as if she'd gone mad. "Commander, what is it?"

She inspected the room very carefully. "I hear his voice. Do you hear it?"

"Perhaps you should lie back down, Commander. I'll get the medic to bring you a sleeping draught. You've had a traumatic couple of days," Nathaniel said soothingly. Lucy had finally cracked. Well, more so than normal anyway.

_I'm here, Lucy. Well, I'm somewhere. I can't see or hear anything but your thoughts. I think, somehow, I'm in your body with you. What the hell is going on?_

"Anders!" Lucy jumped out of bed, her face suddenly looking excited. "He's here! He's in my body with me." She spoke very loudly. "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

_Yes! You don't need to shout. Wow! I can see your memories. Interesting… Huh! So that's what it is like to transform to a crow and fly. Very cool. What's down here? Hey… whoa! You are a __very__ adventurous girl, aren't you?_

"Anders, listen to me! You have to heal yourself. Stop playing around in my memories and do it!" Lucy's voice was bordering on panic again.

_All right, I will, but how? You seem to be in control of your body, I'm not._

"I don't know. I guess I just need to give it over to you somehow." Lucy sounded frustrated.

"Commander?" Nathaniel asked politely, wondering if he should restrain her. _Would she become violent?_

Justice stood up. A piece of skin fell off his jaw, leaving the bone partially exposed. "I think I see what the problem is. When I sent us all out of the Fade both of you ended up inside one body."

"Can you put him in charge of my body?" Lucy asked.

Justice shook his head. "I'm afraid I have no idea how."

Harrison got up from the chair he'd been half-dozing in. "What if you were asleep?"

_What's going on?_ Anders disembodied voice asked Lucy.

"Harrison just wondered if it might work if I were asleep," she repeated for Anders.

_You can just think it, you know. _

"Oh." She grew quiet and the others watched as she held an internal conversation with Anders.

_So… I could spell myself asleep. Maybe that would work._

_Maybe. Maybe I could spell you asleep. Go sit down somewhere so you don't fall over and knock your head. Wouldn't want to addle our brain, now would we?_

"We're going to try something. If it doesn't work, Harrison, dispel the sleep and we'll try something else." She lay back down on the bed and folded her hands over her stomach. _All right. Ready when you are, Anders._

_Right. Here goes…_

Lucy felt a glow kindle within her. It tickled at her spinal column and made her nerves tingle. The last thing she saw was a flare of white light.

"I'm sure I'd never let Anders control my body. I think Lucy's finally cracked," Oghren said.

Nathaniel shook his head. "It's terribly risky. What if he gets stuck in there?"

Oghren pulled at his beard a moment. "You know, that body has probably set some sort of record for the non-demonic possessions."

Harrison bit his lip, trying to stifle a very inappropriate chuckle. "I think she probably did with the first one."

"Just what the hell do we do if they both end up stuck in the same body?" Nathaniel growled, irritated by the absurdity of it all. _What if they have to be… put down? _

"Two mages in one body," Harrison sighed. "The Chantry would have a fit."

"I can hear you, you know." Lucy sat up from the bed and looked down at herself. She flexed her arms and examined her hands, and then she looked at her cleavage and smiled. "Wow… I always wondered what having breasts would be like."

"Yup. That's Anders," Oghren said confidently.

Lucy's hands caressed her breasts. "Interesting… it's not quite what I expected. Kind of erotic though."

Nathaniel turned bright red. "Andraste's ass, Anders! Don't _do _that! It's…"

"Hot!" Oghren chimed in. "Very hot! Do it again!"

"It's disgusting! I don't want to see the Commander feeling herself up in front of us." Nathaniel folded his arms and glared at the dwarf.

"And that's the difference between you and me, Howe," Oghren pointed out.

Harrison cleared his throat. "Commander… err, Anders, you'd best get to work on… yourself. You're not looking so good."

Anders sighed. "Such a shame. I could have a lot of fun in this body." She waggled her eyebrows at Nathaniel. "I'm a bit curious. Perhaps I could take her out for a test drive. You game?"

Nathaniel growled at her but said nothing.

"I'm just kidding." He shrugged. "Oh, come on! Tell me you wouldn't be curious if you were in my… her shoes."

Nathaniel shook his head.

Anders leaned over and looked at his body. "Wow… Well, two observations. First of all, I can finally really appreciate how extraordinarily handsome I am, and, secondly, how incredibly close to death I am. Could someone go fetch the medic and my herbs and instruments? They're in the chest at the foot of my bed."

"I'll get the medic," Nathaniel volunteered, glad to leave. This whole situation was very disturbing to him.

"I'll get your supplies." Harrison followed after Nathaniel.

"I'll get some booze, just in case someone needs it. I know I do." Oghren felt a little disturbed but oddly turned on by Lucy/Anders and that made him very uncomfortable. He definitely needed something to drink to help him clarify his thoughts on the matter, or get so drunk he'd forget all about it.

Justice watched from across the room with his exposed jaw bone. Anders looked up at him. "Justice, you're falling apart and I can't really take the time to patch you up. Are you in pain?"

He shook his head and his left ear shook loose and hung by a few strands of skin. "No, Warden, I don't feel pain. Don't worry about this body. I knew it was only temporary."

Anders got up and drew a stool over to the side of the bed where his body was lying. "First things first. We need to get you stabilized, handsome devil." He put her hands over his body's heart and cast the first of the healing spells.

The magic was very odd, casting from Lucy's body. She had a sort of innate wildness to her magic, something completely foreign to him. He could even feel the lyrium necklace pulsing against her chest. Lucy had spoken to him about how she had to "close the door" to the Fade to control her magic and he understood now what she meant. Something like muscle memory - _magic memory? - s_howed him how to do that. With the strange combination of his knowledge and her inborn abilities he was able to do a very thorough job of patching himself up, temporarily, unfortunately. At least his body might have a chance of surviving surgery. As soon as the medic and his supplies were available, he would cut himself open and go after the souvenir left inside him by the darkspawn grub.

While waiting for the medic and his supplies he thought about the terrible risk that Lucy was taking to save him. He never would have let her do it, if he'd had any say in it. If his body died, he and Lucy would be stuck together in this one body. It was an uncomfortable few minutes he'd spent without being able to see, hear, speak or use any of his senses. Surely they'd go mad if left in that situation for long.

"I'm going to have a long talk with you, Lucy, when you wake up," he muttered. "You should have just let me die." Suddenly, from nowhere, a deep, strong urge to weep swept over him. "Damn it!" He gritted his teeth and refused to give way to the emotion. "Are these those hormones you're always talking about? Maker's breath, woman… that's bloody inconvenient!" He tried to distract himself by remembering what she'd called it… _andrastegen?_

The medic arrived and was lugging Anders's chest of supplies. The timing was good, he needed to keep his mind and hands busy.

"Commander… Warden Nathaniel said you needed some assistance with Anders," the medic said. "I didn't know you were even a healer." He looked at her warily.

"Well, you see… I'm not exactly the Commander. I'm Anders… just borrowing her body so I can heal myself."

The medic turned pale and backed away a few steps. "I… I…" he stuttered. His eyes darted around the room and he caught sight of Justice's exposed jaw and missing ear. "Maker… that man needs medical attention!"

Justice shook his head. "Do not fret over me. This body is at the end of its usefulness. I suggest you concentrate on Warden Anders's body." Justice took a step to sit down on one of the nearby stools but his boot feel off, taking his foot with it. He stumped along on the footless end of his leg hardly noting his altered condition.

"Probably best you not think about it too much," Anders said soothingly to the medic. "Just soldier on and do what's required. Someday you can include all this in your memoir." Anders stood and looked around the room and found an empty basin. He cast the spell she used to create water out of her hands and filled the basin with hot water. He found a bar of soap next to the basin and washed his hands thoroughly. He threw out the water and refilled it for the medic.

"Wash up. I've got enough to think about without having to worry about sepsis. What's your name, anyway?"

"Derrick, my lady… er… Warden Anders." He still looked extremely suspicious and hardly looked away from her as he washed.

Anders dug through his supply chest and laid out an assortment of tools and potions. He put them on the stone floor and swept them with fire from his hands. Then he turned them over and repeated it. Germ theory was something he'd never heard of until he met Lucy. She had explained what germs were and how they caused infection and disease. Normally he didn't concern himself with infection since they could be cured with magic, but in this case, the patient - _Himself! How strange to think of that - _was in a particularly fragile state.

"All right, Derrick. You're going to hand me things as I ask for them and assist if I need an extra pair of hands. Are you ready?"

The medic nodded.

Anders swabbed off his chest – _damn, this is confusing – _his patient's chest with a healing, antiseptic tonic. "Give me the little knife."

Derrick quickly found the smallest knife and handed it to him… her… him.

Using magic to sense what was just below the surface of the skin; Anders cut into his… the patient's chest. It was easier to just forget exactly who he was operating on. Every time he thought of it as being himself he started to get nervous. He just needed to not think about exactly what was at stake here; both his and Lucy's lives would be ruined if he failed.

The knife sliced cleanly through the patient's chest and there was far more blood than he expected. That meant something had been punctured and was bleeding into the chest cavity. He tried to see where it was, but there was a rib in the way. It was going to have to come out. He cast his tiny, very focused, flame spell and used it to cut through the rib, just as he'd done to drill through Harrison's skull.

"Maker…" Derrick breathed. "What are you doing?"

"Steady, my man. There's a bit of a fang left in there and I can't see it to pull it out with this rib in the way." The last of the rib burned through and Anders handed it to Derrick. "Don't lose that. I want to have all the parts I started out with."

Anders shot the medic a quick look. Derrick looked a bit pale, but he thought the man wouldn't pass out on him. "All right, I'm going to need you to hold the incision open while I stick my hand in and fish out that fang."

Derrick nodded and placed his hands where Anders directed him, holding the incision open.

"Here goes," Anders muttered. Lucy's slender hand fit better than his would have. Just beyond the ribs he bent his fingers slightly. The fang was there, but it had pierced an artery leading to the heart, pulling it out was going to be touchy. He felt the full weight of the moment. He'd either be able to patch the hole quickly or this body would die in a matter of moments.

He closed his eyes and his lips moved as he spoke silently to the woman sharing this body. _I love you, Lucy. I swear I will spend the rest of my life making you know exactly how much. _He juggled casting a healing spell with detecting the location of the fang. His fingers finally contacted it. He murmured a prayer to any listening deity as he gently tugged it free.

The hole squirted a stream of blood with the next contraction of the patient's heart. He ignored the streaming blood and did his best to locate the hole. He redoubled his healing, patching the punctured artery, but the force of the pumping heart simply widened it again. This was particularly delicate. Too much healing and the vessel would become thickened with scar tissue to properly pass blood, too little and the hole would tear open again. He used all his mana and then drew from the lyrium necklace Lucy wore. Her knowledge and skills were all accessible to him, but other than the steady supply of lyrium, there was little that she possessed that would help him.

He looked down at the blood pooling in the patient's chest cavity. This was not working. _If only the heart weren't pumping…_

"I've got to stop his heart," he muttered.

Derrick looked up with alarm. "Maker… that'll kill him… you."

"Not if I'm real fast." Anders took a deep breath to steady his nerves and cast a tiny paralysis spell around his heart. It stopped beating. Now he could accurately fix the torn artery. He worked quickly, carefully rebuilding the walls of the artery where it had been punctured. "That should hold. Now… how do I restart this thing?" He dropped the paralysis spell and nothing happened; the heart didn't resume its beating.

Sometimes… sometimes… pounding on one's chest could do it, but his chest was laid open and pounding was out of the question. Perhaps… instinct and training guided his hands. He gently wrapped Lucy's hands the around the patient's heart and pumped it.

Almost immediately it twitched and fluttered under his hands. He cast more healing into his chest cavity and continued the gentle pumping. Suddenly it leapt in his hands and resumed a strong, steady beat.

He carefully, slowly, withdrew his hands and kept his eyes glued to the organ, watching and hoping it would continue. After long minutes of intense scrutiny he exhaled his tension and sat back. "I think it worked. You can let go of the incision now."

Derrick looked at him in awe, his eyes wide with admiration. "That was amazing."

He flashed a smile at his assistant. "Give me that piece of rib. I'll get this exceptionally good-looking man closed up and hope that ticker keeps ticking." Anders drew on the lyrium necklace again and took the piece of rib from Derrick. His healing magic sealed the bone into place. Next he held together the sides of the incision and healed it.

As the skin knit together, he backed off the magic, not entirely healing the wound as thoroughly as he normally would. He left it pink, with a long ridge of scar tissue. He could have healed himself completely and not left behind any evidence of the trauma, but not this time. His eyes welled up with tears again and he turned his head away from the medic until he got control of the emotions. _Shit! How does Lucy deal with these sudden urges to cry at the slightest provocation? _

Anders got up and washed his blood-soaked hands, turning to Justice as he dried them on a clean cloth. Justice nodded at Anders. The skin on the left side of his face came loose and began peeling away from the underlying skull. Anders's stomach lurched as he saw his fellow Warden falling to pieces before him. He knew there was nothing more he could do to save Justice from total failure of Kristoff's body.

"Warren," Justice slurred his speech as half of his lips were now missing, "I thick bess I tur you to the Thade tho you can get to your proper body."

Anders nodded grimly, knowing that this would probably be the last time he'd see Justice on this side of the veil. "Yes, when Lucy awakens she can have her own body to herself again." He walked over to Justice, not wanting to risk him completely falling to pieces on the spot, and the badly decomposing man grasped his arm. There was a brilliant white light and an immense noise and Anders found himself in the Fade with the spirit of Justice.

"Tell the commander, and the other Wardens, goodbye for me. It has been interesting to spend time with your kind. I have much to contemplate over the eons."

Anders clasped forearms with the spirit and noticed his form in the Fade was his own again. "Take care of yourself Justice and thanks a lot for all the help."

The spirit nodded. He used the grasp to propel Anders out of the Fade and into his own body. "Be well, Anders."

There was a sense of falling down a long, dark hole and at the end there was nothing more.

_~o~o~o~_

**Lucy**

I awoke feeling like I had no concept of how much time had passed. Days? It felt like it, maybe even weeks. _No, you can't sleep for weeks, that's ridiculous._ Cracking eyes open, I could see daylight. I was facing the balcony and Orlesian doors in my room. The brain fog began to clear and I remembered everything that had happened. _Anders?_ There was no answer. That's good, right? It meant he was able to get back into his own body, or at least out of my body. I was almost afraid to turn over and see if he was there, next to me. I snaked a hand out from under the covers and patted the bed behind me. _Yes! There's a man-sized lump. _I turned over and saw him lying there next to me, his skin paler than it should be, but his breathing was regular and unlabored.

"Anders!" I said out-loud. I burst out in tears, unable to contain my relief. I threw myself on him and kissed his cheeks, forehead and eyes with enthusiasm. "You're alive!" Then I realized I was mauling a man that had very nearly died. I pulled back hoping I hadn't hurt him.

His eyes cracked open and a smile worked one corner of his mouth up. "Lucy," he said quietly. "I would scold you for what you did…" He paused a moment, the effort to talk took a lot out of him. "But… you're the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."

"Shush." I put my finger on his lips. "You're still fragile. Don't strain yourself. Are you in pain?"

He shook his head weakly. "No, just weak from blood loss. Give me a day or two and I'll be fine."

I put my hand on his chest. "Can I lay my head here? I need to hear your heart beating."

He nodded and I curled up close to him and put my ear on his chest and listened to his strong, steady heartbeat. His hand reached up and stroked my hair and tears of relief slid down my face to his chest.

He chuckled. "I'd tell you not to cry but I know you can't help it. Stupid hormones."

"What? Oh, you got to experience them first hand," I snorted a sloppy laugh and cried even harder. I tried to still my emotions but it was impossible. I was still exhausted from everything that had gone on since we left the keep. I suspected that Anders had used a lot of mana and that probably contributed to my exhaustion too. More importantly, he needed rest. I didn't need to upset him with my blubbering. "Go back to sleep, Anders."

"You, too, my love," he whispered back.

I let the beating of his heart lull me back to sleep.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes:**__ Shi, olivegb, Biff, Zevgirl, Josie Lang, .x, Jenna53, Bonkzy, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Ethizen, thanks very much for the reviews! You help keep the muse from going on strike. _

_I had some challenges with this chapter, like making Anders in Lucy's body be confusing but not so confusing it would totally lose my readers. I'm not sure I succeeded with that, hope so. I also knew it'd be an opportunity for some humor but I didn't want to lose the tension._

_Many thanks to my adorable, Canadian beta-reader, Biff McLaughlin, who also has some wonderful stories. Go check them out! Thanks also to Zevgirl who cheers me on and laughs at my dumb jokes. _

_Reviews are massively appreciated, as always! This might be a good time to ask me if I'm going to include something in this story. I'm starting to think about ending it and there might be a loose end or two I have forgotten about. (No, Zevran isn't forgotten.)_

_Will there be a sequel? Probably not. Judging from how the reviews have dropped off, I think people are losing interest in Dragon Age fics. Maybe I'll go play ME and see what that does for my muse._

_Thanks for reading!_


	18. Reawakenings

**Re-Awakenings**

We awoke together, Anders and I, and blinked at one another in the mid-morning light. What a strange journey this had been. I felt as if I'd shared every possible intimacy with Anders that one could with another human being. Hell! We'd shared more than anyone ever had, as far as I knew, yet we'd never been actually intimate. Clearly, the word didn't mean what I thought it meant.

That morning I couldn't reconcile everything I was feeling: gratitude for surviving, for knowing my son survived, that Anders lived, that this long-standing problem with talking darkspawn was over, it all overwhelmed me with joy. But I couldn't escape that Zevran was dead. He was lost to me forever and would never know the child he considered his own, no matter who the father was.

When Anders and I stared at each other that morning, I smiled and he returned it. Then I dissolved into tears and all the grief over Zevran's death overwhelmed me. I found myself clutched tightly to his chest. His hands stroked my hair and down my back.

"It's all right, Lucy. Everything will be okay," he murmured. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

I didn't really hear the words, but they sunk in at some level. I clutched him close and cried on him until I couldn't cry any longer. When I finally looked up at him his eyes were red too.

Not even the soul wrenching grief I felt could derail biology. I had to pee and I had to eat. "I'm going to need some time, Anders."

"No." His refusal was unexpected. "Bad things happen when we aren't together. I will wait for your pain to end, but I'll be here, right next to you."

We looked at each other. His eyes echoed what I felt: sorrow, relief, and yes, love. "Well, at least let me go to the toilet alone." I cracked a crooked smile at him.

He nodded and I went to finally empty my bladder.

**Anders**

Absolutely nothing was going to separate him from her. He loved her, and he knew she loved him. You learn these things when you share a body. From the first moment he'd laid eyes on her, bedraggled, weary, nearly bursting with a child in her belly, while fighting darkspawn, he'd begun falling in love. The nights he'd haunted her dreams, the times they'd nearly come together… nothing would stop this now. He would give her time to heal, but he would be next to her every night, holding her. One day her sorrow for her lost lover would finally fade enough and they could consummate what they'd already consummated in the Fade a dozen times.

He had his own guilt to deal with. His gain of this remarkable woman was because someone else had died. Whenever his thoughts strayed to the news of Zevran's death, he felt a moment of relief followed by sharp pangs of guilt when he saw Lucy's grief.

Each day he stayed near her. He wouldn't even leave when Loghain had insisted on talking to her alone. The general had been giving him murderous looks ever since they returned to the Vigil. It was fairly obvious that he didn't approve of Anders, and, he wasn't sure, but the man seemed quite angry with Lucy over it as well. Lucy led him out of her room and kissed him softly on his cheek.

"Give us some privacy, Anders. I promise nothing bad will happen. Loghain is a friend. We just need to have a little… chat."

He didn't want to let her face him alone. She trusted the wrong people sometimes. There was, he knew, some history between them, but he didn't know what it was precisely. "I'm waiting right here, Lucy. If anything happens…."

"There might be some shouting. Don't do anything rash." She squeezed his hands with her own.

He folded his arms and refused to reply.

"Please, Anders. We need to have this out." She gently rubbed her hand across his scruffy cheek.

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I can't promise that."

She smiled gently at him and sighed. "I love you, darling, but that's an order."

The emphasis on the word "order" left him with no doubt that it was. "Fine, but there's a limit. If I hear anything… _anything_ out of order, I'm fireballing that door."

She cocked an eyebrow at him as a warning and returned to her office, locking the door behind her.

He paced outside the door and it wasn't long before he heard the general's voice growing louder, his tone beginning to sound caustic. "…_with that mage?" _No surprise, of course. The general had made it abundantly clear that he didn't approve, but what Anders couldn't figure out was what business it was of Loghain's.

"_What about Danny? What about my son?"_

_His son?_ Riordan was the father, wasn't he? That was what Lucy had told everyone. Yes, the general was going to make Daniel his heir but… was there something else? Suddenly he began to understand why the general seemed to particularly dislike him. He began to pace outside the door. _Does he love her?_

Lucy's calm voice answered him, but he couldn't hear her words.

"Did it never once cross your mind...," the words came slowly, but were icily clear to Anders from the other side of the door, "… that you could have married me? It would have solved a number of your problems."

_Marriage? _Anders' hand moved by reflex to the door and he tried to open it, forgetting it was locked. Lucy's voice was getting louder.

"…solves nothing! You think this would wrap up everything and put a nice happily ever after on it? I call bullshit!"

That pronouncement made Anders relax. _That's my girl! _

Lucy's voice dropped into lower, placating tones and he couldn't make anything else out. The general's voice dropped too. Suddenly the voices stopped completely and that worried him even more, but then the door unlocked and swung open and he practically had his ear at the door.

"Uh…," he offered by way of explanation.

"Anders!" Lucy said, her hands on her hips.

"I'm watching you, boy. You fuck this up and I'm going to wear those damn feathers on my epaulets. Clear?" Loghain growled and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Yes, sir. I understand." He stepped back and let Loghain past. He stood with Lucy and they watched him stride down the hall and down the stairs. "We need to talk."

"Oh Maker, not you too." She sighed heavily and gestured for him to precede her into her room. She sank heavily into the sofa. "What did you hear?"

"He wants you to marry him." Anders strode back and forth in front of the fire. "Would you just tell me exactly what there is between you two. And don't say nothing. I know there was something."

"There was something, once." She stood up and put her hands on Anders's shoulders to stop his pacing. "It ended just before the end of the Blight. Does it matter?"

"Oh." He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist and stared into her dark eyes. "He wanted to marry you though? Why did you turn him down?"

"Well… lots of reasons. We fight a lot. I find him rather oppressive at times. I don't think he really trusts me, and probably with good reason. The way we met was… novel. And the biggest reason of all, Anders…" She stepped close to him and placed both hands against his cheeks and kissed him thoroughly, "…is you. I love you."

Desire swept through him. Surer than a jumbo-sized bottle of lyrium, those words lit him afire. Maker, he wanted to just… _Argh!_ His hand stopped inches from grasping her ass and pressing her into him. _Down boy!_ She needed time; time to get over the loss of Zevran. He recalled his hands and placed them on her shoulders. Then another question popped into his head. He pulled away from her just enough to free his mouth and it started to operate before his brain had a chance to think. "Wait… I'm confused. I thought you married Riordan during the Blight. Does that mean that Loghain might be Danny's father?"

Lucy sighed heavily and pulled away. "I confess there was a genetic roulette wheel spinning in my womb. Danny's paternity is unknown. However, I'm personally convinced Riordan was the father."

A smile dawned on Anders' face. "Were you a naughty girl during the Blight?"

Her hands flew up over her face and she peeked out over her fingertips. "Oh boy was I ever. We'd better sit down. This tale takes some telling."

Anders and Lucy sat on the sofa and the tale of Danny's three potential fathers spilled out in lurid Technicolor detail. They ended up reclining on the sofa, her back against his chest. Again, his hand began to roam of its own accord. It slid down from her waist to her hip before he caught himself. _Time! She needs time. _The problem was, having shared her mind he knew how she liked to be touched. She was a little ticklish over the hip bones, but he could remember her memories of hands tracing patterns down her thighs and then…

_Not helpful, Anders!_

There was a knock on the door and Iveta entered with the baby. Lucy got up and took the baby from her. She settled back down on the sofa and the three of them snuggled together. Anders shot sparkling fireworks from his fingers and Danny laughed and tried to grab them, but they burst like soap bubbles.

_How would you like a fourth daddy, Danny? _he thought. The kid was pretty adorable, he had to admit. Maybe someday… he'd have a blond haired little brother or sister. The thought made Anders grin stupidly.

"What's so funny?" Lucy asked.

Too early, far too early to mention such a stray thought, he filtered it before it came out of his mouth. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking what a handsome lad you created here with… someone."

Lucy searched his face. "Does my past bother you? You're not going to throw this up in my face sometime are you?"

"Me?" He laughed. "I guess you didn't know me in the tower and, well, when I was out of the tower too. You already caught me slipping out of someone's room in her robe, so I don't think this is going to be an issue." He leaned in over Danny and kissed her softly. "We're both…," he pecked her again on the lips and continued, "…very sexual creatures, I think. Probably very well suited for one another in that regard." He kissed her again, lingering a little longer. _Damn, this isn't easy._ "Don't you agree?"

Lucy's eyes had half-closed and when she opened them her pupils seemed dilated. The moment faded quickly though and that look of sadness returned. "I can't argue with your logic."

There it was again. Every time she seemed about to lose herself in a moment with him, she withdrew, pulling back into that sadness that had been haunting her since she learned of Zevran's death. She hadn't spoken of it, since that first day when she asked for time to heal. "What are you thinking?" he asked, hoping to get her to talk about it.

She looked up, looking almost caught in a guilty thought. She rubbed her hand across her forehead and toyed with Danny's hair a moment. "Oh, you know. Things…." She trailed off.

"Let's say, for the sake of argument, I don't know," he said. Danny began clutching at his fingers and babbling. Anders knew immediately the baby wanted more fireworks. The ends of his fingers lit up in red, green, and gold sparkles. That set the baby to laughing and Lucy smiled, looking fondly at her son.

"Well, for one, I'm thinking about how much there is to do. Amaranthine is a mess and it's my responsibility to rebuild it because I'm in charge and I really don't want to be."

Catching her eyes with his own, he shook his head. "Tell me the hard thing. The thought that flickers through your head when we kiss. The one that makes you unhappy." There was a little clenching in his chest. This might be something he shouldn't pry into, but he needed to know and she needed to talk about it.

"Who else will I lose?" She squeezed her eyes shut. "How can I be so foolish as to love someone when every time I do they're taken from me? I find myself wondering if I'll be mourning you someday far sooner than I should be. I can't do it again." Her eyes filled with tears and they spilled quietly down her cheeks.

"Don't you think bringing me back from certain death is a message from the Maker that this time it'll be different?" He stopped the fireworks display and wiped away Lucy's tears.

She shook her head. "I wish I could believe that, Anders. I wish I could."

He sighed and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's leave. Hand it all over to Nathaniel. Tell the Wardens, if they ask, that you're recruiting. We will go to Denerim and you can get back to work on your toilets. From time to time you can send some recruits to Nate."

"Can I?" she mused. The tears stopped rolling down her face. "The Warden compound is nice. You'd like it. We could make one of the rooms into a nursery for Danny. The yard is really nice too. Lots of room for him to play when he's older." Her face lit up. "He and Calenhad can have play dates!" She laughed. "Maker, what a name that poor boy is saddled with."

Anders was happy to see her bouncing into a better mood. "I don't see why you can't leave. Don't arls do that sort of thing? Run off somewhere and have fun and let everyone else do the work? They leave competent people behind, ones that don't rob them blind. Just ask Loghain how he does it."

Squeezing Danny hard enough to make him squeak, she kissed his cheeks. "Danny, would you like to go to Denerim and meet your… hmmm… are you related to Calenhad? Maybe he's a third cousin twice removed or something." She smiled brightly at Anders.

He pulled Lucy back onto his chest and the three of them reclined on the sofa. All he had to do was keep her focused on a brighter future, on doing something she enjoyed, not the job she'd been forced into against her will. Maybe soon… a romantic dinner, flowers, chocolate, lots of wine... then she might stop looking sad when he kissed her.

_~o~o~o~_

**Nathaniel**

The towels at Vigil's Keep were of a quality and nature that, Nathaniel had to confess, were superior to anything he'd ever encountered before. Lucy had commissioned a certain sort of cloth to be created that was nubby and absorbent. The clever person who finally figured out how to weave the material was rewarded, by Lucy herself, with a surprisingly large cash prize and a lifetime's worth of work. If there was one thing good about the Warden-Commander, it was that she had certain ideas of the way things should be that, when they panned out, were really very good.

He stood before the half-length mirror, still only partly dressed, and whisked away the last bit of shaving soap. Splashing water on his face, he used one of the vastly improved towels to dry himself. The little loops of thread on the towels were quite absorbent and delightfully soft. It was much better than linen.

There was a soft scuffling sound outside his door followed by silence. He stopped his morning ablutions to listen more closely and heard a small, feminine sigh. Creeping quietly to the door, he flung it open catching the interloper just as she was about to knock.

"Ahh!" Mary Ann jumped backwards and began to windmill her arms, having snagged her heel in her long dress.

Ready to scowl and berate her, he instead grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. "Why are you spying on me?" he asked, as she regained her feet.

"Spying?" She yanked herself away from his grasp, her cheeks flushing with anger. "I wasn't spying! I was just about to knock and inquire if there was anything you needed when you… you… sprang out at me, half-naked, and grabbed me." She sniffed disdainfully and tugged her sleeves with her fingers. "You're a cad."

"That may be true," he admitted, "but I can be a polite cad. Please, come in, Mary Ann." He stood back from the door and gestured her into his room. Remembering how they were interrupted last time, he shut his door.

She visibly jumped as she heard the door close and turned to look at him.

"Do I make you nervous, Miss Mary Ann?" He walked closer to her and watched her gulp. Her pretty blue eyes met his and then slowly dropped down to his neck, collarbones, and finally his bare chest, then they fled guiltily back to his eyes.

"No!" she said. Her jaw was set stubbornly, as if she were gritting her teeth.

"Did you come here to sharpen my sword again? I seem to recall you were going to stick it somewhere unpleasant."

"I came to see if you needed anything. I'm a servant, after all. It's my job to make certain that the high and mighty Grey Wardens are properly attended to!" She lost her fearful look and began to look angry instead. She pushed at his chest with her hands, pushing him back a step or two. "So, Ser Warden… Hero of Amaranthine now, I hear. Do you want anything? Or is it enough to just bully and intimidate the help?" She pushed him again and he backed up another step.

"Intimidate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. The girl's mood changes were giving him whiplash. Shy one minute, flirtatious, and then angry by turns, it was most amusing. "You're the one always threatening violence, my dear."

She made to thrust at him again with her hands but he caught them with his own. "Ooooh!" she fumed. "Let go of me." She struggled, but not convincingly.

"Will you stop pushing me?" he asked her, trying to suppress an amused smile.

"No, I will not! Not while you look so smug and self-important." She set her jaw stubbornly and scowled at him.

"Well, then, we are at an impasse." He couldn't hold back the amusement and chuckled.

For a moment they stood toe-to-toe, one glaring, the other amused. Nathaniel slowly leaned in, bringing his face closer to hers, giving her time to pull away if she wanted. He noted the distinct lack of retreat and kissed her, gently.

"I should scream," Mary Ann hissed, but her lips were back on his and, when he dropped her hands, she twined them around his neck.

"Would you like it if I made you scream?" Nathaniel spoke the words right into her ear, with a hot puff of air. The little cry that came from Mary Ann was nothing remotely scream-like. "That was more like a whimper, my dear. We'll have to work on that." His fingers fumbled with the laces on her corset until she pushed them away and removed it herself. Her clothes fluttered to the ground, followed by his trousers. He scooped her up into his arms and deposited her onto his bed.

Her hair fell out of her normally tidy ponytail and her cheeks were flushed a delightful shade of rose. Scanning his body boldly, she sought out his eyes. "Are the tales true, Warden Nathaniel?"

Smiling, Nathaniel leaned over her. "I guess you're about to find out."

One more scorching hot kiss and Mary Ann found out.

_~o~o~o~_

The scream shattered the peace, or what there was of it in a busy keep. Sigrun leapt up from her seat at the game table. "Darkspawn?" she asked, drawing her sword.

"Nope." Oghren stared up at the ceiling a moment. The scream had come from upstairs: Warden Quarters. He whisked a card into his sleeve while Sigrun was distracted.

Turning to her unmoving Warden brother, Sigrun looked puzzled. "Don't you think we should investigate? It sounded like someone was being murdered up there!"

"Absolutely not." He examined the bit of debris floating on top of his ale, decided to ignore it, and swallowed it with the next quaff. "Not unless you want to piss off another Warden."

Standing, hands on hips, Sigrun looked questioningly at her fellow dwarf. "All right, at the risk of sounding stupid. Why?"

Another large quaff and Oghren's mustache sported a mustache of foam. "You get used to the screaming after a while. Pretty soon you can start to tell them apart. There's the 'Oh Maker, a darkspawn is eating my face off' sort of scream and then there's the 'Oh Maker, a Grey Warden is eating my….'"

"Okay!" Sigrun interrupted him. "I get it!" She flushed a little and laughed. "I guess I have a few things to learn." She sat back down at the game table and picked up her hand. There were a few more screams, these more muffled than the first, but she ignored them and won the round handily.

Oghren scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I don't get it. I can't even win when I cheat. How do you do it?"

Pointing to her heavily tattooed face, Sigrun laughed merrily. "You can't out-cheat a duster, Warrior. My mom hid cards in my nappy."

He watched her far more closely after that and never did see how she did it.

**Loghain**

The Banns and freeholders of Amaranthine gathered in the great hall. Lucy, looking lovely in a green dress that complemented her red hair, walked from one conversation circle to another, listening to their tales of the darkspawn invasion. Most of them had suffered relatively light losses but there were exceptions.

There was another purpose of this gathering, beyond tallying up the damages caused by the darkspawn. This was the day Lucy would change her arling's allegiance. Fergus Cousland's useless response during the invasion, witnessed by Teyrn Loghain himself, was proof he was a negligent liege lord. Such a political realignment was likely to cause turmoil, but the situation had become intolerable for Lucy and the arling.

Loghain watched from the second floor. There was a conveniently located viewing area, all but impossible to see through from the great hall, but it afforded him an excellent view. She could do this. She was even good at this, even if she hated it. People liked her because she listened and asked intelligent questions. Their travails were important to her and her banns knew that. Pity she hated being an arlessa, because she was so damn good at it.

That's why he'd tried to talk her out of it when she said she was leaving Amaranthine and returning to Denerim. Well… truthfully, he didn't try that hard. She would be closer to him in Denerim, he could visit Danny more often.

She was right. Despite the sometimes heady passion they'd once shared, they were like oil and water. She'd be miserable and that would make him miserable. Even if it were a marriage of convenience… no, it'd never work for her. She wouldn't give up the mage and he wasn't going to wear horns, not even for her.

The damn mage was going to complicate her life. Unless she flouted convention, she couldn't marry him. Even if she tried, there wasn't anyone in the Chantry that would perform it, unless they found a rogue Sister. Ah well, her status as a hero of two darkspawn invasions might protect her, at least for a while. Hero status could forgive someone a lot of idiosyncrasies. He hoped that would be true in her case.

Lucy turned toward the hidden viewing area and gestured with a toss of her head. It was the signal to begin the announcement that would send shockwaves through the country.

He walked down the stairs and was greeted by a resounding cheer and applause. It would seem he was a hero again, just as Lucy was. Ignoring the accolades, as normal, he stood stiffly next to Lucy on the dais.

"Go ahead," he told her.

The cheers and applause just increased as they stood together. Lucy smiled warmly at the assembled nobility and worthies. Finally she held up a hand and they quieted.

"My friends," she began.

Loghain hid a smirk. There were probably some in this crowd who had been plotting against her only a few months ago.

"We've survived another attack of darkspawn and this one, I believe, is the last," she continued.

There was a light smatter of applause.

"Teyrn Loghain is, in large part, responsible for how well we survived the assault. He sent us troops that were desperately needed. Our Warden force, while growing, is still small. The force in Amaranthine was spread very thinly, as you all know. We did our best, protecting the trade route, the farms, and the city. But we could have employed twice as many troops, if we but had them. Fortunately, Teyrn Loghain augmented our sorely strained forces with additional forces."

Another wave of applause filled the hall. "What about Teyrn Cousland?" Lord Eddelbrek shouted out. The applause died away and there was a murmuring amongst the audience.

"My brother, Teyrn Cousland, sent troops as well. I'll let Teyrn Loghain describe… that." Lucy gestured to Loghain and he stepped forward.

"The Commander's brother sent two dozen men. An inadequate number and they were all men I wouldn't trust to dig a latrine, much less trust with sharpened weapons. Upon questioning, we found they were pulled from prison, or were completely untrained." He stopped and smirked at Lucy momentarily. "Unfortunately, the causalities amongst this green batch of soldiers were high. There were only a half-dozen to send back."

"Arrow fodder!" One of the banns sang out.

"Indeed," Loghain agreed.

A murmuring went through those assembled.

Lucy stepped forward again after smiling at Loghain. "As you can see, one of the two teyrns in Ferelden clearly is looking out for the interests of Amaranthine. The other one… not so much. I realize this is my brother, but I can't let my familial ties interfere with the interests of my people."

Once again the crowd muttered.

"My brother, the teyrn, has also raised taxes twice on this arling. Thus far I have not passed along these additional costs, but I cannot continue to pay them out of my own funds. Sooner or later I will have to come to you to ask for more money." Lucy's brow furrowed and she looked angry. "And for what?" She paced a few steps and turned back to the audience. "We have sworn our allegiance to Teyrn Cousland so that he will protect us." She stopped and looked out over the assemblage. "He failed us. If it weren't for Teyrn Loghain, I'm not sure any of us would be here today."

The muttering grew louder and there were angry shouts. Loghain looked at Lucy, admiring her performance.

Lucy raised her hand and quieted the assembly again. "That is why today I am disavowing my oath of fealty to Teyrn Cousland and swearing it to Teyrn Loghain. He has proven that he has the capability and desire to protect the people of Amaranthine, a task at which my brother sadly failed."

This time the audience became tumultuous. There were protests, cheers, and questions shouted. Loghain heard more than one person say, "Can she do that?" He held up his hand and addressed the audience. "I know this seems like a rash decision, the Cousland teynir has been a good friend to the North for a long time. But clearly this has changed. It isn't common for a bann or arl to change their alliances, but it does happen from time to time. The Warden-Commander and I have discussed this at great length and I am willing to take her oath of fealty.

"Additionally, we've worked out a very advantageous trade agreement and tax status, which, correctly me if I'm wrong, Commander, she will pass along to you."

Lucy smiled and nodded. "As we discussed, any of my banns who stay with Amaranthine will get this preferential tax agreement. And the deeply discounted price on Gwaren lumber we agreed upon. That will be handy when it comes to rebuilding."

Loghain nodded deeply. "Indeed." He noted the generally positive comments from the assemblage. "If you're ready, Warden-Commander?"

Lucy nodded and knelt before Loghain. "I promise that I, Elissa Cousland, Arlessa of Amaranthine and Warden-Commander of Ferelden, will be faithful to Teyrn Loghain in matters of life, limb and earthly honor. Never will I bear arms against him or his heirs. So I say in the sight of the Maker."

Loghain, unlike her brother, didn't insist she kiss his sword. "Rise, Warden-Commander."

She rose and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

The assemblage broke into applause and cheers once again. There were still a number that looked stunned, even confused, by this unexpected turn of events.

"My friends… please." Lucy tried to make herself heard over the noise. "If you will…." She turned to Loghain and shrugged.

"Settle down now," Loghain said, his voice a loud growl heard even to the far parts of the hall. "Listen up."

"My friends. I hope you will stay with me, Amaranthine, and with the Wardens. But I will understand if you wish to remain faithful to my brother, the Teyrn of Highever. If you wish to remain with me, I will take your oath of allegiance again. If not, I understand and bear you no ill-will."

Loghain watched closely and noted which banns immediately pushed forward to swear their allegiance and which took longer to make the decision. In the end, not one of them could resist the siren song of lower taxes, favorable trade status with Gwaren, and protection by two of the finest fighting forces of Ferelden. Every single bann reaffirmed their fealty to the Warden-Commander.

_~o~o~o~_

"That went well," she said after the last bann had left. She walked over to a decanter and poured four glasses of expensive brandy, handing them out to Loghain, Varel and Anders. The last one she lifted herself and smiled at it just before tossing it down her throat. She was seized by an intense coughing fit. Someday he'd have to teach her to drink properly, Loghain thought.

The mage wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. "You were brilliant."

Loghain rolled his eyes. _Smarmy bastard._ "This should be interesting. The next Landsmeet might be even more exciting than the last one you attended."

Placing a large sack of gold on the table, Varel looked pleased with himself.

"What's this, Varel?" Lucy asked.

"Gold. Yours. We never did get around to sending to your brother, what with the darkspawn invasion and all. Seems like now we won't need to."

"Toilet money?" Lucy asked. She lifted the sack and smiled at its heft.

"Yes. This isn't Amaranthine's coin, Commander," Varel replied.

"This might all go to shit, Loghain, but it feels damn good," Lucy filled her glass again and toasted him.

"It probably will." Loghain clinked his glass against hers.

As they drank and toasted, Loghain realized he had a very good friend in Lucy, someone who knew him well, knew how to stand up to him, and question him. She wasn't blinded by his status as a hero or a general. This might not have been his preferred outcome, but he couldn't complain about having a friend of her caliber. Perhaps the drink was making him maudlin, but he was okay with how things had worked out.

_~o~o~o~_

**Notes: **_Anyone still following this? Hope so! Would love to hear from you if you are. _

_I'm intending to alternate updates between this and my Skyrim story, "We Know". We are pretty close to the end of this though. _

_A shout out to my great friends: Biff McLaughlin and Zevgirl. I adore teasing them with snippets of chapters on Google+ and all the great people on Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age._


	19. Déjà Vu

**Lucy**

My new feudal overlord, Loghain, might tend toward a sour disposition, but at least he didn't hate me. Besides, I could defuse him with Danny. All I had to do to bring a smile to his face was plop my son into his arms. My old overlord—my sibling by DNA, but otherwise unrelated to the entity I call "me"— didn't take the news of me firing him very well. But what could he do?

Civil war was clearly not an option. If it were a few hundred years ago and Ferelden had more teyrns and a less centralized government, he might have recruited others to his cause to set an example to other arlings about abandoning their sworn allegiances. But in Dragon 32, odd as that sounds, times had changed. Banns could, and did, defect. It was half of what made the bannorn so fractious and unpleasant to deal with. Besides, Fergus's military force had been far more decimated by the Blight and Arl Howe's treachery than Loghain's had been.

I wasn't sure how often arls defected, but Loghain made it clear that the only reason I could get away with it was because of my close relationship to the crown, to him, my popularity, and the popularity of the Grey Wardens in general. Of course, he also had to expound on how fickle popularity is and I shouldn't count on the golden gleam of heroism to protect me much longer. All it would take was one good scandal or rumor and I might find myself toppling, head-first, from my lovely pedestal.

I don't know, though. Grey Wardens seemed to have developed a Teflon coating. Even the rumors of our depraved sexual practices, which were mostly untrue —we did not practice bestiality, fornicate with darkspawn, or even hold orgies, we just got a little more than most people—didn't seem to deter anyone from applying for membership to our very exclusive club. In fact, it seemed to help recruiting. There wasn't a day that went by when some fourteen-year-old boy wasn't begging to join. I turned them away, of course. I didn't want sex-crazed teenagers hopped up on whatever it was that made us Wardens so randy.

But back to my dear brother: "Dear Teyrn Cousland," I had written, "Fuck you!" Okay, Varel wouldn't let me keep that copy, so I wrote nicer words to the effect of since we had such difficulty getting along, it would probably be better if we parted ways. Varel put in historical precedents for the switcheroo I was making. We were hoping that Fergus wouldn't remember that change-ups like the one I was proposing had usually led to civil war and other unpleasantness. Besides, he'd totally lose and he knew it.

I put my toilet-shaped seal on the wax and Varel was headed out the door to find a courier to deliver it, but Loghain stopped him.

"I've got a message to send too." He handed Varel his own message.

I looked up at Loghain, puzzled at what he might be sending. "What's yours say?"

"Fuck you, essentially. I reminded him that I'd be leaving a substantial force in place and that if he harms you he will be squashed like the cockroach he is."

Varel coughed, looking somewhat alarmed, but I giggled and said: "I can see why you don't do much diplomacy."

"My dear, the diplomacy I do," he said setting his hand on the hilt of his sword, "is the kind that cuts to the heart of the matter far more efficiently than flowery words."

I had to agree with him. I knew how intimidating the man could be, and he liked me.

We watched Varel hand the letters to the courier and then that was that.

**Anders**

Shaving very closely, using the subtle fire spell Lucy had taught him, he lost control once and burned himself. "Ouch! Dammit." He healed the burn and rubbed his perfectly smooth cheeks. She wouldn't complain of beard abrasion tonight—and tonight was the night. But his seduction would start this morning.

First things first, breakfast. He dashed downstairs and picked up the tray waiting for him. He'd had this arranged days in advance.

The cook leered at him and winked. "Got all her favorites here, Warden: hot coffee, venison sausages, potatoes, gravy, apricot preserves, Orlesian bread, and strawberries dipped in melted chocolate. If that don't get 'er panties off, nothing will."

"Er… what?" Anders pretended to not know what the cook was talking about. Was it really that obvious?

"Ha! When a man arranges something like this for a lady, there's usually a particular reason for it." She put a bud vase on the tray and put a red rose in it. "She likes roses."

"Right! Thanks." He kissed the cook on the cheek and that set her to laughing raucously.

"If the lady Commander don't give you what you want, I'm available, sweetie." Whacking Anders on the rump she laughed her peculiar laugh again and went back to her work.

He carried the tray carefully upstairs, trying not to spill any of the coffee out of its little pot. Sneaking quietly into the room they shared, he set the tray down on the low table in front of the fireplace. Then he went to the armoire and got out a silky robe she liked to wear. He went to their bed where she lay sleeping and squatted down so his face was next to hers.

"Wake up, my love," he said quietly, brushing his fingers across her cheeks. He loved watching her awaken. Her eyes would just barely open, then they'd close again, like she were testing whether she was still asleep or not. Then they'd open a little more, looking unfocused and heavy lidded. Finally her eyes focused on his face. The very best part was when she realized who he was and smiled her sleepy smile.

"Anders." She stretched and yawned, pushing herself up out of bed. "Did I oversleep?"

"No such thing today, Lucy. Today is your day off, remember? You agreed to do nothing whatsoever but have fun with me and Danny today." He held out the robe for her to slip her arms into.

"Oh, right!" She brushed a kiss against Anders' cheek.

He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her face up to his and kissed her properly. There hadn't been many proper kisses since they'd been together. He'd been holding back, out of respect for her loss, but today that would end. She leaned into his kiss and seemed to relax. A little sound escaped from her.

When the kiss ended she held her hand in front of her mouth and puffed her breath into it. "Ew. Morning breath. I need to brush my teeth."

She ran off to do that and then he led her to the settee with the tray sitting on the coffee table and a merry fire crackling in the fireplace.

"Wow." Looking over the tray her eyes got wide. "Chocolate covered strawberries… how'd you even know?" She poked a finger into the gravy and stuck it in her mouth.

"I shared your brain, remember? A few things stuck."

"You're going to spoil me, Anders." She looked at him slyly. "What if I come to expect this every day?"

He laughed at her and gestured at the settee. "Sit and have your coffee, my lady. I know how you get."

She grinned at him and sat down. She divided up the food between two plates and gave him one. The coffee habit was hers alone, so she didn't bothering pouring him a cup. A generous helping of thick cream went in and she stirred it.

"Mmmmm." She sighed and dug into the breakfast. "Thank you, Anders. This is really lovely."

"I thought I would take you and Danny out for a picnic at the orchard today. Does that sound good?"

She laughed. "Isn't that just like us? Talking about the next meal while we're eating one. Yes. I think a picnic would be great. The orchard is in bloom and the weather is finally warming up a little."

They ate their breakfast, chatted, laughed and planned out their day. Lucy leaned over to pick up a strawberry and Anders grabbed her hand.

"There's a special rule about eating these strawberries, Lucy." He picked one up and brought it to her mouth.

"What rule is that?"

"You can't eat them yourself. They can only be fed to you." He pressed the chocolate covered fruit against her lips, holding her eyes with his own. She opened her mouth and took a delicate bite. The groan she made as the sweet fruit and chocolate combined in her mouth was nearly obscene. She broke eye contact with him when her eyes squeezed shut to revel in the sensual pleasure.

"I can live with that rule." She waited patiently for him to return the fruit to her lips and then devoured the rest of it, holding his hand in place with her own as she licked the residual juice off his fingers. "Now your turn."

"Uh uh." He picked up another strawberry and brought it to her lips. "I want to hear you make that noise again." In the end he didn't eat a single strawberry just so he could witness her bliss over and over again.

After the last strawberry he kissed her again, tasting the sweetness of the berries and the richness of the chocolate as his tongue sought out hers. His hands went to her shoulders and, as she melted into the kiss, they slid the top of her robe off her arms. She didn't stop him.

The cook knew what she was talking about. He hadn't thought he'd have gotten to this point so early in the day, but he certainly wasn't going to complain that he was ahead of schedule. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She made the strawberry noise again when he shifted his attention to her neck and began to kiss and nibble his way along her jaw.

The robe had worked its way down her waist, leaving her torso clad in the thin nightshirt she wore to bed. He could see the tips of her nipples, already hardening, pressing against it. His hand drifted upwards from her waist, up the rounded curve of her breast and his thumb hovered over the sensitive peaks, indecisive about whether or not he should go further. "Are you ready for this?" he asked her.

"Yes." There was no hesitation or thought behind her answer.

This was it then. After weeks of waiting and wanting, this was finally going to happen. She'd be his in every way. His thumbs slowly descended to those delicious summits, gently teasing, stroking over them through the thin material. The way her mouth dropped open and her lids nearly shut, egged him on. His mouth went back to her neck and he knew just how she liked to have the sensitive skin sucked and nibbled. Ah, the things he'd taken away from their "mind meld" as she called it.

His tongue circled the whorl of her ear and then he sensuously sucked her earlobe into his mouth. The moan that came from her as he teased her nipples made him just a little impatient, but he restrained himself. Their first time—if you didn't count all those times in the Fade—had to be perfect. Reaching to her waist, he untied the belt of her robe and it fell the rest of the way off her. He rose off the couch and smiled brilliantly at her. "To the bed, my princess!"

As he scooped her up, she looped her arms around his neck and locked her mouth to his. He carried her to the bed and set her down gently, still kissing her as she tugged him down to the bed with her. His hands skimmed over her body, now just clad in her thin nightshift, and then reversed course, hiking it up her body, and then lightly traced the sensitive flesh from knee to inner thigh to…

Wham! Wham! Wham! A loud thumping rattled her bedroom door. "Lucy."

"Oh… fucking Andraste, what now?" Anders buried his face in Lucy's neck, groaning with frustration. "Can we just ignore it?"

"Crap." Lucy's moan wasn't a happy one this time. "That's Loghain. Something must be wrong."

"What's wrong is that he senses I'm trying to make love to you. If you open that door, I might accidentally freeze him." _Or at least freeze off his dick._ Loghain had his shot and he didn't get her. In Anders' mind this wasn't just poor timing, it was jealousy. The old general was just trying to spoil things.

Wham! Wham! Wham! "Lucy, get out here. You're needed." Loghain's voice was getting louder as his patience was wearing thin.

"Don't be ridiculous. How could he possibly know?" She began to try to writhe out from under him, but he pinned her to the bed with another kiss.

"He knows." Pausing for a moment, he brightened with a new thought. "He can smell it."

"You're ridiculous!" She squirmed out from under him and grabbed her robe, tying it around her.

Moaning loudly, Anders buried his face in the bed to stifle his swearing.

"Look, just… keep your engines warm, Anders. It probably won't take long." Lucy hurried to the door and yanked it open.

Loghain was pacing in front of the door and took in the sight of Lucy still in her robe although it was already well into the morning. "Hardly a good day to decide to lie around all day."

Anders could see Lucy's irritation from across the room. "I wasn't lying about. I was… well… all right horizontal but… um..." She realized that there wasn't any explanation Loghain would like. "Never mind. Where's the fire?"

"Your brother is riding to the keep with an escort a little too large to be purely friendly." He leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms.

"Wait… I thought you said this wouldn't happen."

"It wouldn't if he weren't a complete idiot. I suspect he's just trying to make a statement, or maybe he's just trying to figure out how big of a force we have here. Either way, we've got to roust as many troops as we have and meet him. I've gone over the map with Varel and there's a rise where we'll wait for him and have an advantage, should he decide to attack."

"How big of a force does he have?"

"Best estimate is a couple dozen men on horse."

"That hardly sounds dangerous, Loghain. Between us both, we can field a lot more than that."

"Not on horseback. We've got a dozen riders. Ah well, whatever he's up to, we need to meet him in the field. So, get your Wardens ready. We'll ride out within the hour." He turned and left.

Anders watched Lucy close the door and lean her forehead against it.

"I really, really hate Elissa's brother," she said.

Getting up from the bed, Anders went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "We'll deal with this, Lucy, and be back in time for dinner, which is going to be even better than breakfast, trust me."

She turned around, a little smile on her face. "I like the way that sounds. 'We'll deal with this.'"

"Always, princess." He pinned her against the door with another scalding kiss, wondering about the feasibility of a very quick tumble, and then reminding himself that it wouldn't be right for their first time together.

They dressed for battle. Well, Lucy did. Anders wore one of his magically imbued outfits. But he did help her into her leather armor and ceremoniously placed her daggers in their sheathes on her back.

"You make a good squire, Anders."

"I'm far better at unarmoring you than armoring you," he said, snugging a belt.

"We'll just have to see about that later." Her eyes held a glow that he hadn't seen in a long time and he was very much looking forward to this confrontation being over.

_~o~o~o~_

Highever's seneschal handed his lord a pair of messages. "Your Grace, I think you should read this immediately."

Fergus ran a hand through his unruly hair and squinted at his seneschal. The remnants of a night spent drinking had him in a foul mood. He held his tongue though. The seneschal was a good man—hard to replace—wouldn't do to offend him. "What is it, Erasmus?"

"Best you read it yourself, my lord." Erasmus wanted to stand somewhere safe because he knew Fergus' temper, especially when his lordship had been in his cups, as he was so often now. Poor man, he'd lost so much, his parents, his wife and child and now… this feud with his sister. Maker! How the man railed about his sister. He called her an imposter, a maleficar, and much, much worse. Despite his objections, Teyrn Cousland had raised taxes on his sister to a usurious degree, not that the arling had paid them.

_Drink is the devil, _the seneschal thought. The teyrn had been neglecting his duties, barely even bothering to respond to his sister's request for troops for the darkspawn invasion. The late Teyrn and Teyrna would be turning in their graves had they known their children were behaving like… children— worse yet, children with armies.

Examining the seal, Fergus's mien immediately soured. "My _sister_, eh?" He unfolded the missive and read it, his expression getting angrier by the sentence. "She's emancipating her arling from me?" He stood up, gripping the paper and waving it at the seneschal. "From me!"

"Yes, my lord. It would seem there is precedence, as she quoted, 'When a teyrn fails to discharge his duty to protect…'".

Fergus rose to his feet, an ugly expression on his face. "I read it!" In rage he swept everything off the table with his arm. "She can't do this! Amaranthine is mine."

Erasmus was glad he'd stayed over by the door. None of the flying cups or splashing wine hit him. "You might be able to dispute it at the Landsmeet, but… I wouldn't count on succeeding."

"Fuck her!" Fergus flipped the table over in his rage and threw his wine glass against a wall. It shattered with a satisfying sound. If only it were her skull.

The seneschal ventured further into the room to rescue the other missive from the debris. "My lord, there's another message to read—from Teyrn Loghain."

"Loghain! That ass is sleeping with her. I've heard all about that. No wonder she thinks she can get away with this." He yanked the second letter out of the seneschal's hand and began to read. His mood got even uglier when the first two words sunk in. "Loghain tells me to go fuck myself. He's in Amaranthine with a number of his troops and swears if I so much as put a toe into Amaranthine he'll cut it off." He ran his hand through his hair again, messing it up even further.

Erasmus was beginning to worry about his teyrn's mental state. His decisions to raise taxes and send untrained farmers and bandits to defend his sister's arling were poor indeed. "My lord, do you have orders for me?" He almost hated to ask.

"I need to confront her, eye to eye, and see if she truly will break her oath of fealty."

Erasmus dipped his head in acknowledgement of a reasonable course of action. "Of course, my lord. I will make the arrangements to meet on neutral territory… perhaps in Arl Teagan's castle. I'll get busy writing the invitations immediately."

The teyrn barked out a harsh laugh. "No invitations. No neutral territory. I'm taking this directly to the bitch herself." He picked up a decanter of brandy that hadn't quite emptied as it had fallen to the floor. "Tell Captain Samuels to have every mounted fighting man ready. We'll ride before noon and see how bold my sister really is."

"My lord, that's inadvisable…."

"Go, Erasmus. This isn't open for discussion."

The seneschal, taking stock of the teyrn's temper, decided further discussion was, truly, not an option. "Yes, my lord."

After the seneschal left, Fergus took a long swig from the brandy decanter, not bothering to pour himself a proper drink. All the glasses were in shards anyway.

_~o~o~o~_

They'd waited for the better part of an hour and Lucy was beginning to wonder if perhaps her so-called brother had turned back, or perhaps taken another route. Just as she was about to go scouting for them, someone spotted them. Lucy's gut twisted as she saw the tiny dots in the distance and remembered the last time she'd seen Teyrn.

"He must be insane," Loghain grumbled.

"Maybe he is. I mean, he did lose his entire family to Arl Howe and his sister too." Lucy spoke quietly. "That would probably unhinge lots of folks." She watched the dots get bigger and take on recognizable shapes. "So… what do we do now?"

Loghain had been mulling over that very question. "Archers, be ready." He gave the order. "Everyone else, mount up and stand ready to charge on my command." He lowered his voice and spoke to Lucy. "Stay back here and be ready to use magic if needed. I'm not sure the rest of the force will arrive in time."

Cousland's forces reined in just before the foot of the hill, out of longbow range, and the horses danced nervously. Lucy could see Fergus staring up the hill at her, looking ready to charge by himself if necessary. Seeing him again brought back the humiliation and anger that she'd suffered when he had forced her to kneel and swear her fealty to him. _How's it feel, asshole?_

"You're trespassing, Cousland," Loghain shouted, his voice rough with anger.

"Amaranthine is _not_ yours, Mac Tir. She swore her fealty to me, in case the bitch failed to tell you." He jerked the reins on his horse, causing it to wheel and rear.

Lucy sensed that things were at the boiling point; one man or the other was going to do something regretful. "Look, why don't we discuss it like adults?" Lucy shouted.

Loghain shot her a disgusted look. "You don't parley with mad dogs."

Fergus consulted with the man next to him—a captain or something, Lucy thought. Then that rider rode up the hill to where their forces were waiting.

"What's he doing?" Lucy hissed at Loghain, clueless about the protocol of this sort of thing.

"He's coming to us with terms of a parley."

Lucy grinned, happy her suggestion was listened to.

"They've got templars with them, Lucy," Anders said softly.

"Crap, well that lets me out of casting magic, unless we kill every one of them."

Fergus' captain rode up the hill and dismounted a few yards away from Loghain and Lucy. He unbuckled his sword belt and let it drop to the ground. Then he crossed the few yards and bowed formally to Loghain. "Your Grace, Teyrn Fergus wishes to speak to his sister. Both alone and unarmed." He turned and pointed to a lone tree out of bow range away from both forces.

"No." Anders and Loghain said it in concert.

Lucy shrugged at the captain. "I guess that's a no then. Loghain comes with me." She felt a nudge at her shoulder from Anders, but shook her head at him.

The captain bowed again. "I'll inform Teyrn Cousland." He strode over to his horse, mounted, and rode back to Fergus. There was some animated discussion and then Fergus, staring at Lucy, made a big show of dropping his sword belt.

"You've got something hidden on you, don't you, Lucy?" Loghain asked.

"Yup. Boot knife, thigh dagger, and a megaton of magic." Her hand went to the lyrium necklace around her neck. She'd gotten used to its presence and rarely even noticed the faint electrical charge that seemed to emanate from it, except when she first put it on every morning.

"Good." Loghain stripped off his own sword belt and Lucy removed the two daggers from her back, giving them to Anders to hold.

"You?"

"Boot knife." He slammed his fist into his open hand. "Fist."

When they saw Fergus and his captain riding to the tree they went as well. The pairs of riders stopped a distrustful distance from one another. Lucy dismounted first. The others followed suit and then drew closer.

From this close, Fergus' hatred poured off him in almost palpable waves. Lucy had no doubt that if Loghain hadn't been present, he would have certainly attacked her. Well, that was fine. She had her own set of grudges. "All right, we're here, Fergus. What do you want to say?"

His eyes stared directly into hers and he took a step forward definitely getting into her space. "I want to say that you're an oath-breaking, treacherous bitch. You have no right… No right to break your pledge to me!" He tried to take another step closer but Loghain inserted his arms and pushed him back a step.

"Watch it, Cousland. Your negligence was the cause of this. You didn't uphold your end of the deal to provide defense of the arling and you raised taxes to untenable levels." Loghain growled at Fergus and gave him another push. "You left her no choice."

"You!" Cousland sneered at Loghain. "The only reason you're here defending her is because that whore is spreading her legs for you."

Before Lucy's mouth could gape open at that comment, Loghain's fist was headed for his nose. "I've had enough of you, Cousland!" Fergus managed to turn his head slightly before Loghain's mailed fist landed on his nose, and so only his cheek was split open.

Cousland's captain looked stunned for a moment, and then Lucy noticed he was reaching for his boot. "Uh, uh!" Lucy said loudly, wagging her finger. "I wouldn't do that." Her own hand was flexing, ready to go for her boot dagger if the captain went for his. Meanwhile, the two men were trading blows.

There wasn't much for them to hit because they were both wearing plate armor, but when one of them did hit with a mailed fist, it was brutal.

Lucy flinched as Fergus' fist landed a blow on Loghain's ear and cut it badly, but Loghain countered and finally landed a blow on the other teyrn's nose. The crunching sound, even if it was Fergus's nose, made her feel a little sick. Staggering backwards, his nose was dripping blood. He howled and rushed at Loghain, swinging wildly. Loghain sidestepped the charge but grabbed Fergus's arm as he passed and pushed him off balance. He fell onto his back, swearing and shouting, but he couldn't get up without help, the heavy armor effectively pinning him where he fell.

"Enough!" Lucy stood over Fergus, glaring at him. "This is ridiculous. Our agreement is terminated and there's nothing to be done about it. I'm sorry it had to come to this, but you've been entirely unreasonable."

Loghain stood over the downed teyrn, his nostrils still flaring and his breath coming heavily. "My promise stands, Cousland. You harm her, the Wardens, or her arling and I will personally see to it you're put down like the mad dog you are." He gestured for Lucy to walk in front of him and they went back to their horses, mounted and rode back to the rest of their forces.

"Anders, could you heal Teyrn Loghain's ear?" Lucy asked.

"I'm fine." Loghain's answer was terse, but Anders ignored him and inspected the ear and healed it. Despite his denial, the damn thing stung like crazy and Anders' healing spell provided relief. "Thanks."

They watched Fergus and his captain return to their force and talk. There looked to be a heated discussion underway.

"They're considering attacking." Loghain thought the captain had stones standing up to Fergus. "He thinks they have an advantage."

"Maker, no." Lucy felt her heart sink. This was supposed to happen without any civil war. _Why must Fergus be such a fucking asshole?_

It was beginning to look like the matter was resolved when there was a clanking sound behind Lucy. She turned around to see the sun glinting on the armor of the infantry Loghain had set to marching as they'd left the keep on horseback.

A triumphant smile broke over Loghain's face as the soldiers crested the hill. Now they easily had three times Fergus's numbers. "Let's see how determined he is now."

Fergus's captain pointed in their direction and the teyrn turned slowly and saw the assembled force easily outnumbered his own. Lucy could see the rage growing on his face even from the distance.

"This isn't over!" His voice carried to them, but it sounded small and tinny by the time it reached them. He gave the order and his cavalry wheeled around and left.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Lucy felt relief. She leaned against Anders and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Is this the end of it then?" she asked Loghain.

Loghain snorted. "He's a man out for revenge. I'm sure he'll do whatever he can to get back at both of us, but especially you. You need to be careful."

They watched Teyrn Cousland's riders until they were gone from view and then mounted and rode back to the Vigil. Judging from how she gripped the reins of her horse, Lucy looked very tense. She hardly spoke the entire way back to the keep. Anders's own anger at Fergus Cousland was growing. Not only had he been an utter ass to the woman he loved, but he'd spoiled the day that Anders had painstakingly planned.

**Lucy**

I'd truly intended to return to whatever it was Anders had planned for the day. His disappointment was palpable as Loghain, Varel, and Garevel insisted on meeting about the Fergus problem. What the hell was the point? Fergus was a butt-hole and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it. Yet, even though I knew we'd all arrive at the same decision, it made the men feel less impotent to discuss plans. They talked about a preemptive strike, taking a guest-hostage, sending out spies, bribing Fergus's staff and so on, but the risks were that it would truly launch a civil war. I confess I felt better after brainstorming a dozen or so ways of screwing with Fergus too.

When I stepped through the doorway into our room, Anders was waiting with a bottle of wine.

"How did it go?" He poured me a glass and patted the settee right next to him.

I sat down, leaning against him, happy to have someone I could lean on again. Anders had been there for me this last month. It had been a little strange, to sleep with him every night and never once… yeah. Every time the grief rose up, like a tidal wave, he'd be there to hold me and comfort me. He'd been so damned patient. Now he had obviously planned this day out and Fergus had gone and ruined it. Well, we still had the evening, but I was a bundle of nervous energy.

"It went crappy," I confessed. "There's really nothing to be done but be ready for something. We have no idea what."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I shifted so I could look up into his face. "I want to forget about all that. I just need to relax a little."

"Hm. I have just the thing."

He turned me so my back was to him, then I could feel him casting magic. Gray-green mist swirled off his hands as he massaged my shoulders and neck. I suddenly knew what it was like to not have bones. I melted against him, making it impossible for him to continue the massage. I think I burbled something, unable to form simple words with a tongue that was too relaxed, unable to find vocabulary from a brain that was too mellow.

"Oops, better tone that down some," he said.

The mist from his hands lightened and I was able to pitch my head up. I looked gratefully into his eyes. He certainly had a formidable pharmacy of magic and drugs to cure any illness, physical or mental. I couldn't object to my stress leaving, but magic shouldn't make people drool. It was unseemly.

When he judged I was good and mellow, he wiped up the little line of drool trailing down my chin and shut the magic off. That was when I knew, _really knew_, that he loved me, if I'd had any remaining doubt. I recovered my spinal column and smiled at him, fully relaxed and able to focus my eyes now. "That is about the most undignified thing you could do to me."

"Really?" He poked me in the ribs with a finger. "I could paralyze you, strip you naked, paint dots all over you and lock you out of our room. You really shouldn't challenge me like that."

I snorted and pulled myself upright, picking up my wine glass. "It's never too late to put you on a slave ship to Tevinter in your smalls, you know."

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the back of my neck. "You hungry? I arranged something for dinner."

"I'm very hungry, now that you mention it."

"Well, why don't you slip into something more comfortable while I get dinner?"

He left the room and I gathered myself up for a quick bath and a change of clothes. I pondered my wardrobe for a moment and finally settled on the red dress. Yeah, it had memories of Wolf attached to it, but it was sexiest thing I owned. I knew where things would end up tonight. I laughed at myself as I brushed my hair. I remembered how many times I'd been so sorely tempted by Anders. I felt a little anticipatory thrill as I looked at myself in the mirror. Yeah… I was ready.

He arrived just as I was polishing off another glass of wine and feeling just a bit tipsy for the lack of any food in my belly.

"All right, close your eyes!" He covered my eyes with his hands and led me back to the settee in front of the fire. "No peeking."

"I won't."

There was a flurry of activity, whispering, and then footsteps leaving.

"You can look now." Anders had arranged the low table in front of the settee with two trays of food and it looked like he had most of my favorites there. Venison sausage, roasted rosemary potatoes, oysters, a fresh loaf of bread, my favorite ale, and game hens in wine sauce.

I beamed my approval at him. It was apparent he'd gone to a lot of trouble to arrange a very special day for me. Before I tucked into the dinner I kissed him. No, really. I kissed him. It wasn't one of those cheek, forehead, or puckered mouth kisses we'd been sharing over the last month. It was a _kiss_ kiss. Well, it was at least as good a kiss as I could give him while my stomach was growling with hunger. But I hoped he could sense the promise behind that kiss.

He served up our dinner and we ate it sitting side by side on the settee. There was a little table we could've eaten at, but the settee in front of the fire was far more romantic. Every now and then he'd pop a raw oyster in my mouth or refill my glass when it ran low. We chatted about everything except Fergus, darkspawn, or anything else that was annoying.

There was a polite knock on the door and Anders' got a silly grin on his face.

"Come in," he said.

A servant brought another tray in, cleared off the remains of our meal, and set down the new tray. It held something obscured by metal dish covers.

"Anything else, ser?" the servant asked Anders.

"No. This is fine. Thank you."

I leaned forward to uncover whatever was on the tray, but Anders held me back.

"Not yet. I have to tell you something."

"Oh?" I cocked my head and watched him.

"I remember things from the time I spent in your body. Odd things, sometimes. Words just pop into my mind and I know what they mean. You know how quickly I picked up shape-changing after that. I'm sure having shared your mind helped with that."

I nodded. "You're saying you know some of my memories. Like what?"

With that he smiled broadly and gestured toward the covered dishes. "Take a look."

I swept away a cover from one dish and gasped. "Ice cream!" I was so overwhelmed by memories that my eyes filled with tears. _Dad driving us home from the beach. Foster's Freeze. Sand everywhere, including in the ice cream. Sunday night ice cream, almost every Sunday as a child. Hand-cranked ice cream on hot summer eves._

"I found the recipe in my memories. Your memories, rather."

It was the first time since I'd come to Thedas that I had a moment of homesickness. But it wasn't really for home. It was for my parents, both gone. I wasn't surprised he'd come away with that since so many of my best childhood memories seemed to involve ice cream. I couldn't help the tear or two that got lose and rolled down my face. I wiped them away and sniffed noisily.

His face sobered instantly and he hugged me close to him. "Ah, no. Was this a bad idea? Why are you crying?"

I shook my head and rubbed my eyes again. "No. It was a marvelous idea. It just brought back so many memories. I wouldn't even have imagined the cook could make this!"

Reassured by my protestations, Anders' smile returned. "She's quite ingenious. Well, are you going to try it?"

I picked up a spoon and carefully scraped off some of the slowly melting, creamy dessert and put it into my mouth. It was definitely different than the ice cream I'd had back home, but I'd expected that. Still, it was close enough. "This is definitely ice cream."

Anders took a taste himself and his face lit up with delight. "Hey, this is really good. You should sell it in Denerim."

We laughed over building an ice cream stand in Denerim. It was so cold nearly all year round, I doubted it would be too popular, but further north it could get warm in the summer.

"Actually, it's feasible." I went to the happy nerd place and began to design my ice cream factory. "Cold runes. Water wheels to churn the cream. All we need is a source for vanilla." That was what this ice cream was missing.

We spun a fantastic life for ourselves out of my ice cream dream. It was pure fantasy. I was committed to toilets, although perhaps I'd give the ice cream idea to someone else. Or maybe the Wardens could use it as a recruiting tool. Ice cream socials would bring people out of the woodwork. Once they got a taste of it, they might not mind drinking the Joining juice so much.

"Yeah, a bowl of ice cream would make drinking the taint completely worthwhile," Anders said, rolling his eyes.

Finishing my ice cream, I waited while he finished his and then I took his bowl and set it down on the low table in front of the settee. "Strawberries, chocolate, ice cream, raw oysters… If I didn't know better, Anders, I'd say there was an agenda behind these sumptuous feasts today." I bit my lip and gave him a sexy smile.

"Well, the way to a Warden's heart is through her belly, they say." He leaned forward, his face just a few inches away from mine.

"I think you might have been aiming a little lower than my heart." I grinned impishly at him. "And your aim is excellent, ser. You had me at the chocolate covered strawberries."

"Good to know. I'll have the cook lay in a supply."

I nodded. "We're going to need lots of them."

Looking extraordinarily pleased at that comment, he closed the distance between us, canting his head to the side, and our lips met. I snaked my arms around his neck and opened my mouth to his tongue. He caught my lower lip between his teeth and let it slip through them, scraping the tender flesh ever so gently. His tongue swept into my mouth, rubbing, stroking, mating with my tongue. It sent a heated bolt from my neck to my toes and I couldn't help the little urgent moan that escaped from me.

He pulled back, a pleased look on his face. "You're okay with this?" he asked for the second time that day.

"I already answered that question this morning. I think you just like hearing me say it."

His grin turned impish when I called him out. "I do."

"Well, then. Yes." I kissed him lightly on the mouth and then put my mouth next to his ear. "I'm more than okay with this." I puffed hot breath into his ear and felt him shiver in response. "I want this… _You_." I nibbled on his earlobe and traced the curvature of his ear with my tongue. Judging by the deep hum coming from him, he liked it.

"Maker, Lucy." He pushed me away, his eyes looking slightly wild. "Bed." He scooped an arm under my butt and another behind my head and picked me up.

I buried my face into his neck and nibbled and licked wherever I could reach while he journeyed across the room to the bed. I had a strong sense of déjà vu from this morning. I just hoped we wouldn't be interrupted again.

He stumbled over a footstool and we crashed into the bed, laughing. But the laughing stopped shortly, shut off by another protracted kiss. His fingers fumbled at the long row of buttons down my back, until I turned over so he could get to them more easily. Our clothes came off, down to the smalls, but then the frenzied undressing stalled out to kissing and touching.

Anders hovered over me, looking at me in my small clothes as if he were going to prison for the rest of his life and was trying to memorize every inch of me. He rolled to his side, his hand traveling over my body while he just looked. Pressing my breast band against me, he looked at the pink outline of my hardening nipple. His hand traveled down my side, the scoop of my waist and over the flare of my hips and then he hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" I was a little perplexed at his hesitation.

"I've dreamed of this for a long time. I want to savor it."

"You did?" As I looked at him, my brow creased and that sense of remembrance got even stronger. It wasn't just a replay of this morning. I'd dreamed of Anders too.

"Hm. One in particular. We were lying together in a meadow…" he trailed off.

"That's odd. Now that you mention it, I recall a similar dream." It came back to me so abruptly and clearly. No wonder I'd felt like I'd done this before; I had, in my dreams, and more than once. The details were sketchy by now, but that sense of déjà vu stayed with me.

Anders smiled and kissed me, apparently done with the topic. "Well, enough with the dreams, eh? I've got the real thing now." His mouth moved down to gently suck on my nipple, soaking the cloth of the band, his other hand brushed against my other nipple. A hand disappeared behind me and then the band was expertly unfastened and tossed away.

I ran my hands down his chest, through the light smattering of fair hair there. I loved looking at his chest and arms. He wasn't as massive as Loghain or Alistair; they wielded heavy weapons and armor for hours a day, but Anders was still well muscled. Perhaps he was blessed with good genes, or maybe the training he'd been doing was enough to give him a fine, manly physique. He'd have been in demand as an underwear model.

I ran a hand down across those well-defined pectorals, down his muscled abdomen, lingering at the spot where his waist dwindled into his hips at a V-formation of bone and muscle.

"You saucy wench!" He captured my hand as it began to dip into his smalls. He pinned it over my head as he rolled onto me, pinning me to the bed with his body. "Lady Cousland is a saucy minx, a fraud, a hedge witch, and…" His eyes grew serious and his smile went from a wide grin to a contented smile that consumed his whole face, "…and mine."

With that his mouth was on mine again, blazing a kiss on my lips, then trailing a series of gentle nips down my neck that made me shiver. It was a trail that he seemed to know well. That feeling of familiarity got even stronger as things grew ever more intense. How could that be?

Blessedly, his face was completely devoid of his usual five o'clock shadow, and buried between my legs. The only thing that seemed new or different was the lack of beard burn on my thighs. Everything else… I knew his favorite position and he knew mine. There was no magic involved and that seemed unusual. How so? I shoved my perplexity into the back of my mind and went with, though. What's not to like? Being with someone for the first time could be so awkward and there was none of that between us. We flowed together like we'd done this dozens of times.

When we finally fell to the bed, sated and breathless, he wrapped me in his arms and stared into my face with his funny quirky smile and those warm brown eyes glowing.

"You surprise me, Anders," I said. "I figured you'd be doing that double-plexing thing, zapping me with nerve shocks like a malfunctioning Orgasmatron, and doing Maker knows what all to me until I couldn't walk straight."

Snorting, he tweaked my nose and kissed me on the forehead. "I thought we should establish a baseline. You know, for comparison. Besides, our first time, I thought what with everything that's happened..."

He trailed off, but I knew he was thinking of my loss. I drew lazy circles across his nicely developed pectorals and my eyes focused a thousand miles away. "The sadness has to end sometime. I might not be over it completely, but I am ready to move on, Anders." My focus sharpened in on him and I cocked my head, drawing my brows down. "Besides, it feels strange not doing it with magic." That comment came from my strange sense of familiarity and it must've sounded nuts to Anders, but he was kind enough to overlook it. He smiled sweetly and kissed me again.

"Next time, then." He traced his finger up my arm and a tiny series of sparks followed it its wake. They tickled. "Although, being Wardens, next time could be very soon," he added. "And with a rejuvenation spell, maybe a healing spell for any residual soreness, it could be very soon indeed." He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at me with a raised brow.

"It could be imminent," I agreed, returning his goofy grin with my own.

There was almost a contest to see who could cast rejuvenation first. He won. And I was feeling quite ready after a light round of healing sore bits.

I am not ashamed to say we reached the end of Warden stamina before the sun came up the next morning and we slept well into the next day.

_~o~o~o~_

**Notes:** _Can't begin to say how thrilling it was to hear from so many people after the "reawakening" of this story. Utterly thrilling to know that so many people cared enough for it that they commented. I was so happy I went right to work on the next chapter and it flowed out of me super fast. Had it done in very short order, except for the last scene. I wrote that sucker 3 times and got stuck. Just nothing was working for me. Finally I gave up and went back to my Skyrim fic. When I came back I was unstuck and got it finished in no time. Amazing how something like that can really trip you up._

_First of all, my thanks to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading! My thanks to Zevgirl for being my principle cheerleader. And to those who reviewed after the last chapter: Ana, Whirlygirl9, Josie Lange, ladydragn Lusewing,Cynderjenn, Guest, Guest, tgcgoddess, Persephone Chiara, Aynslesa, No account, Lyzenzed, whoopsiedoodle, , tgail73, AndAgain, Shi, rubberleg, Denfree, Shom, KatDancer2, Spoit0, iBlameBradley, ShadowDmn, Scarylady1, melgonzo, Xaiael, Penelore, djo81704, Wren Wild, Zevgirl, Biff, Guest, egiaprevolg, Kira Tamarion, Calliope Sol, Isala Uthernera, MidnightMoonCat, Storyteller44, ShebasDawn, Princess Procrastinata, xKimathyx, Blue Dartwing, Lady of Dragons, Jenna53, The LilacGirl, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Ethizen._

_Wow... all those comments are like winning the lottery! Thanks! It makes it all so worthwhile. I know I didn't thank each of you personally because I got lost, couldn't remember who I had thanked and who I didn't. So, accept my thanks here._

_Just amazing!_

_I apologize for how shamefully long this took. It was one of the few times my muse has abandoned me._


	20. The Grey Warden Retirement Guide

_Here's where I agonize for long minutes trying to think of a title for this chapter that fits the theme._

_Um… "There and Back Again?" No, been done. _

_Ah, I have it! _

**The Grey Warden Retirement Guide**

**Lucy**

Life settled down a little after that confrontation with Fergus, but I couldn't get it out of my mind that I wanted to put this Commander nonsense behind me. Anders wasn't unhappy in Amaranthine, but I wanted to get back to Denerim where I could attend to my business. I wasn't cut out to be an Arlessa, or Commander, but I could make a fine figurehead, I supposed. It was time to do something about this duty I never accepted. What was it we said in the Joining ritual? Oh yeah, the duty that can't be forsworn. Well, maybe I can't forswear it, but I can do what I told Zevran I'd do and delegate the hell out of everything.

"Nathaniel," I said, looping an arm over his shoulder and gesturing expansively at the Vigil, as I walked with him around the courtyard. "This could be all yours someday. In fact, tomorrow if you want."

"What?" He stopped and looked at me in shock.

"I want to abdicate, or whatever it is I have to. I'm not cut out for this and you clearly are. Obviously this isn't going back to the Howe name, it'll still be Warden property—nothing I can do about that—but you'd be in charge. If I can make it official at the Landsmeet, I will. You will be named Arl, or acting-Arl, something like that. If I can, I'll even try to persuade the First Warden to name you commander, if you want."

He squinted at me, looking as if he thought I'd lost my final marble. "So, after everything you are going to just foist this all on me?"

I squinted at him with an evil glare I was still trying to master. "Oh yeah, don't act like you don't want it."

There was an infinitesimal upward tick of his mouth. "What will you do?"

"Build toilets. I can do recruiting for the Wardens and send likely candidates to you. We need to rebuild the Wardens. Clearly the Blight wasn't the end to darkspawn issues. And now we might need to defend against Fergus as well." I sighed, shaking my head.

"Do you think he'll attack?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know. Loghain will leave a strong presence here until we've rebuilt. If he does, it'll be suicidal, but I still wouldn't put it past him. He is…" I pondered, looking for a word, "erratic."

"Charming." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Yeah, very," I agreed. "So, what do you think of my proposal?"

He shrugged and tried to look put upon. "I suppose, all things considered, I never expected to be an arl, acting or not. My father favored Thomas. In another life, you might've been married to him and probably running the arling because he'd be too drunk to do anything useful."

"Okay, I'll think about that the next time I have nightmares about the Blight. It all could've been worse."

He chuckled at that. "I am fine with taking over. You're sure you want to do this?"

"You can't imagine how badly I want out."

"What about Anders?" he asked. "He's a Warden too."

"He can evaluate the mage recruits. I'm definitely not leaving him behind, so don't even ask."

Leaning against a wall, he chuckled at me. His eyes looked contented and relaxed. This wasn't the same guy I'd recruited from that dungeon cell. I found he had a sharp, caustic wit, and that he loved to tease. If I hadn't grown up with four older brothers, I might have taken offense at the teasing, but, paradoxically, I knew it was actually a sign that he liked me. Leaning with his knee bent, foot propped against the wall, I could see what Mary Ann obviously saw in him. If I had liked the dark broody sort, and had the patience to deal with his initial dislike of me, I might have been very tempted.

"I wouldn't think of it, Commander. When do you think you'll leave?"

"Yesterday. I don't know. As soon as humanly possible we will pack up our belongings and go. We'll go back to the compound in Denerim. Perhaps I'll buy a little house of my own." I thought about moving vans, cardboard boxes and dollies, but I suspected this would be entirely different. I also now had a large staff of servants to pack things up for me. That part made me almost giddy.

"Okay, answer me honestly," I said. "Do you want this? If you don't, I could always put Oghren in charge." _Maker help us all._

He laughed at that. "There was a time when I wanted it. I would've done a lot to get it too."

I didn't know what time-frame he was talking about. When his brother was the heir-apparent?

"However, things changed and I was just as glad it was all someone else's headache. However, I'm perfectly willing to take this on, even if it isn't something I exactly hunger for."

That answer suited me better than if he'd said an unequivocal, enthusiastic 'yes'. I'm suspicious of those who are too eager to get their hands on power. I nodded my approval. "Good!" Sticking out my hand, we shook on it. "As of right now, you are the acting commander and acting arl of Amaranthine. Congratulations, Nathaniel. I'll make an official announcement at dinner tonight. Come the Landsmeet, maybe it can be more than official."

"Nate," he said, taking my hand and shaking it.

"What?"

"Nate. Call me Nate."

I grinned at him, having never forgotten when he'd told me I couldn't call him that. "Nate. Commander Nate. Has a ring to it."

_~o~o~o~_

Nothing happens as fast as you think it will, especially moving. When you think about packing you will inevitably underestimate by a factor of at least ten how much stuff you have. When you actually set about packing, you find out it takes four times longer than you thought it would. I always used that as my basic rule of thumb when I was a twenty-first century earth person.

What I didn't realize was that on Thedas, as the Arlessa of Amaranthine, I had people who would do this for me. I was amazed at their efficiency and wagons began to depart from Amaranthine shortly after I announced I was moving. It wasn't exactly like I had all that much stuff anyway. I'd acquired some dresses, more armor, a couple of staves, a little jewelry, a new lover and… oh yes, a baby. It was Danny who had the most stuff. We would need to take his furniture, his nurse, all the cute little clothes, blankies, toys, nappies, and what-not he'd acquired. The baby's gear took up a whole wagon while Anders's and mine fit into one together.

Our final night at Amaranthine arrived and I looked around the great hall wondering why I didn't have any regrets about leaving. Then I remembered—life here had pretty much sucked. I'd been shanghaied into this job during a time that should have been filled with wonder as the life within me was about to leave the mother ship, but instead it was about as bleak as it could be. Zevran had gone, to his death as it turned out, and I was left alone. Then my leave was cut short and I was ordered to Amaranthine.

I flashed back to that stormy night I arrived, went into labor, and fought darkspawn. It was also the night I met Anders and he brought Danny into the world, so it wasn't a total loss. Of all the things that had happened to me here that I'd like to forget, Danny and Anders were the exceptions.

I watched Anders talking to his buddies one last time. A few of the girls he'd had a thing with looked very dewy-eyed and miserable. A couple even dared to venture a last hug, despite the fact I was standing nearby.

Oghren broke out the "special" stuff, and Anders supplied "sweet madcap"—which I simply referred to as "weed". Captain Garevel got higher than a kite and his second had to eventually help him off to bed. Ambassador Cera surprised us all by getting tipsy and making a pass at Sigrun. I think we were all surprised to see that Sigrun intercepted the pass and ran to the goal line. They went upstairs together, weaving a bit, arm in arm.

"A copper for your thoughts, Commander," Varel said, standing at my shoulder.

I couldn't exactly convey my thoughts unedited; they were ungracious and had to do with how badly I wanted to leave.

"Oh, just reflecting that things were not exactly easy here." I turned to Varel and took his big hands in mine. "Varel, I couldn't have survived a week of this without you. I want you to know how incredibly valuable you are. If you ever get sick of seneschaling, let me know. I'm sure I can put your skills to good use in the factory. You'd make a marvelous CFO."

"CFO?" He looked at me with that patient, curious look he'd always had whenever I got 21st century on him.

"Chief financial officer. The guy responsible for making sure things are profitable and everything's well accounted for." Actually, he'd probably make a great CEO.

"Thank you, Commander. I will keep that in mind." He squeezed my hands warmly and let them go. "We never did come to any arrangement for Bann Esmerelle and her co-conspirators. Would you like to leave their punishment to Warden Howe?"

My eyes flew open. "Oh Maker! I totally forgot in all the craziness. I'd like Howe to take care of it, but my wishes would be that they are exiled. Strip them of everything but enough money to make a very humble beginnings somewhere else."

"My lady, it is well within your right to see them hang for what they did."

I grinned evilly at Varel. "It is, but I can't imagine a worse fate for them than to become some of the 'little people' their ilk look down on."

His warm eyes twinkled and he chuckled at me. "You are undoubtedly right about that."

I smiled thinking that Varel was far too charming and good-looking to be unattached. I'd have to work on that.

I made my rounds of the kitchens bidding farewell to the serving and cooking staff. The cook was the one I'd recruited in Denerim. Sadly, I wasn't taking her back with us. Nathaniel and I had argued, and finally diced over it. He won. He probably cheated.

Then I ran into Mary Ann, the girl that Nathaniel seemed to be quite fond of. She'd gotten a series of promotions and now managed the entire upstairs. She didn't take a bit of guff from anyone, especially not Nathaniel. Occasionally we heard some heated arguments that would suddenly die-off and be replaced by screams of passion. Either Mary Ann was a screamer by nature, or Nathaniel was very, very talented. I'd love to have asked her, but… well, not even I could be that tactless.

I had a long conversation with Harrison. I mentally commended him for loosening up. He had a little sweet madcap, and I found he had a rather sentimental nature.

"Commander, I wish you the best in Denerim. I also want to say,"—he fidgeted, running a hand through his hair—"well, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to join, even after everything that happened. I wouldn't have blamed you if you hated all templars after that. I've come to see, more and more, that the Chantry wasn't always right."

"Harrison, you're the only reason I survived that. If I ever needed proof that not all templars are evil, power-hungry sons of bitches, you provided it." I got misty-eyed. Harrison had been such a kind and gentle person, always treating me with respect, even when I probably didn't deserve it. "Any time you want to come to Denerim, you be sure to come stay with us. You hear me?"

I found I had grabbed onto his arm and was shaking it, trying to get my message through to him. Okay, I was getting a little tipsy. Maybe I should slow down on whatever the hell it was Oghren was sharing with me.

Looking at my hand gripping his bicep and then at me, Harrison broke out into a rare grin. He wrapped me into a tight hug. "Stay safe, Lucy."

I had hoped that Woolsey might let down her hair, but she was as uptight and proper as ever. When things really started to swing, she excused herself.

Someone broke out a set of drums, like the musicians of the time use, and I taught them a proper Latin rhythm. Before long someone else brought some big tubs out of the kitchen to provide a nice bass beat, then a washboard joined the mix, and Oghren was blowing on empty booze bottles and we had quite the improved band.

"Conga line!" I screamed, trying to be heard over the cacophony. That brought puzzled looks because no one had ever screamed such a thing at a party in Ferelden before. Some people started to draw weapons, looking around for darkspawn or bandits.

I got Anders to grab my hips and we started the line. Almost everyone who wasn't playing an instrument joined in and I was left to improvise a dance I had no clue how to do. I just swung my hips, poked a foot to the side, pulled it back and repeated on the other side. Then I hopped three times. I think I was confusing the bunny-hop with the conga. It didn't matter. Anders followed what I did and the person latched onto his hips did too. We shuffled and hopped our way around the great hall several times before the line disintegrated.

That's when the serious drinking started and Oghren told me he loved me and cried like a baby that I was leaving. Yeah… typical Oghren stuff. I reminded him I was only a two-day ride away, but he said something about "shleets" while sitting on the floor looking very confused. I was moved.

When the room started to spin, I vaguely remember trying to walk across the great hall, but I kept falling off my shoes. I'm not sure why since I was wearing flats. Then it all got a bit fuzzy.

**Anders**

There is a point when sweet madcap and alcohol mix in perfect proportions, and you reach a very blissful stage where everyone is exceptionally funny and witty, even Harrison, but none more so than you. It's at this point that you understand the universe. Your place in it becomes apparent, and you are perfectly content, or you would be if someone would just pass you the cookies or those cute little tarts.

Anders had reached that point. He was just about to distract Garevel and snatch the platter away when Garevel deflected him.

"Hey, isn't that your Lucy? I mean…"—Garevel burped long and low, and then giggled, yes giggled, the man was shameless—"Commander Lucy?"

It was a ploy, Anders was certain. Garevel had commandeered the sweets and he was repelling all boarders, but nonetheless Anders looked up and saw Lucy stumping across the floor, or more aptly, careening. She seemed to have lost the ability to keep her feet in her shoes. Obviously, she was well past the blissful stage into the stage where your former understanding of the universe is replaced with a new one: You are the universe and if you have one more drink you're going to experience the Big Bang as you spew forth a galaxy from your heaving gut.

But Lucy was heading right toward the table, eyes glazed, careening off of people, and not slowing down as she neared. "Hi honey!" she shouted at the top of her lungs and waved madly at him.

"Whoa!" Anders jumped on his chair, stepped onto the table, and jumped down to catch her before she crashed into the giant obstacle between them—the dining table that seated twenty—that she failed to notice.

"Oh! Oops." She slumped into Anders's arms and began to go a little limp, but she turned her face up to his and smiled beatifically. "Maker, you're a han…han… hassome man. I could just radish you right here and now."

And that was the last thing she said; plans for radishment aside, she passed out and hung limply in his arms.

"I can help you get her upstairs," Garevel offered, gallantly giving up his seat by the sweets, but he was tilting dangerously himself. Anders wasn't going to trust Lucy to him in his condition. He'd probably drop her on her head.

Varel, ever the sensible adult, came to the rescue. "Enjoy yourself, Captain. I'll help Anders get her upstairs."

Damn him, he wasn't even tipsy. Anders wondered if the guy had ever in his life lost control. Still, he remembered one time that Lucy has watched the seneschal's ass as he had walked away and the lewd comment she'd made. No, Anders wasn't going to entrust Lucy to someone who already too closely resembled a knight in shining armor.

"Thanks, Varel. I've got her." Anders cast one of the spells Lucy had taught him to boost his strength. Not that she was all that heavy, but walking up many flights of stairs with her might not be easy. He scooped a hand under her and cradled her in his arms. Turning to the people still enjoying the party, he thought he should address them on Lucy's behalf.

"Um…" He waited until the noises quieted and everyone turned to look at them. "Lucy, er, the Warden-Commander, isn't feeling well." He gestured with his head to the unconscious woman he was carrying. "But I know she would want to say something like, well, probably a whole lot like what I would say."

He cleared his throat and tried to push down the sentimentality that the madcap had stirred in him.

"And that is that we all came from different places—some of us from _very_ different places—and yet we came together to fight for Amaranthine and her people, to stand against the darkspawn yet again. We all stood together, and fought, and won. Even though some of us didn't like one another at first—" he paused and looked at Harrison—"It didn't matter, because no matter how much we didn't like one another, we hated the darkspawn worse."

There was a spattering of applause and lifted cups at that.

"Through that process we got to be friends. I can honestly say now—" he looked pointedly at Harrison—"I actually like every one of my Warden brothers and sisters. Even the templar."

Harrison raised his mug to Anders and grinned. "I like you too, Anders!"

He looked at Lucy dangling in his arms and smiled at her. "Darkspawn have been responsible for a lot of terrible things in the world, especially in Ferelden, but if it weren't for them, and this lady right here, I probably wouldn't be alive today, odd as that sounds, and I certainly wouldn't be as happy as I am."

There was a momentary pause and then clapping, followed by stomping, and whistles. Someone shouted "Kiss her!" and then it was taken up as a chant. "Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

Anders grinned down at the unconscious woman in his arms and thought he might get in trouble for doing this, but he shifted her, propping her head against his shoulder and then kissed her in front of everyone, in the first public display of affection they'd ever had—and she was unconscious.

Strike that. There was no _might_ about it, if she learned about this he was going to pay for it. Still, who was he to deny these good people? The crowd might get ugly if he didn't give them the spectacle they wanted. It sounded like a pretty good excuse to him.

The applause and catcalls were raucous now. He grinned, basking in their approval, but he waited out the ovation to die down.

"I'm sure Lucy would like me to remind everyone that Denerim isn't _that _far away and if you come visit us, we'll put you up. Now, I'd better get this lady into bed. We're leaving at dawn."

The raucous cheering started at the word "bed" and Anders flashed one more smile and headed up the stairs, the Warden-Commander jiggling in his arms with every step.

The magic of the arcane warrior made carrying this woman an easy task, but somehow he doubted he'd ever complain about carrying her to the bed they shared, even without the magic.

_~o~o~o~_

"I never thought I'd be so happy to smell the stench of Denerim," Lucy said as they rode into the city, their heavily laden wagons trundling ahead of them.

They were mud splattered and soaked. It drizzled sporadically ever since they left the Vigil. Their escort, Loghain's men, looked just as happy to arrive. For the last half mile the horses had been pushed to go as quickly as possible, especially since the sky was threatening to open up and really pour down on them.

They made it to the Warden compound and got Iveta and Daniel inside first. Lucy and Anders pitched in along with the staff still working at the compound and they got the wagon unloaded just before it really started to rain in earnest.

Anders instantly took a liking to the place. It wasn't nearly as big as the fortress in Amaranthine, but it was far homier. The tower at the far end looked like a promising place to have a library. The Warden-Commander's bedroom was also large and it featured a huge bed, one that looked rather familiar from Lucy's memories. A bed that once routinely held Lucy and her two lovers, both dead now.

"We don't have to stay in this room," Anders said as she paused in the doorway and her expression suddenly sobered.

"Oh, somehow I managed to continue on after Zevran left." She ran her hand along the counterpane. "I slept in this bed alone for weeks until I was summoned to Vigil's Keep. Don't worry about it."

He stroked his hand down her hair, worrying about it. There would be so many reminders here. Sooner or later it was going to get to her.

"Perhaps we should look into buying a house. Some place with a nice little yard for Danny to play in," Anders said, still concerned.

Turning to him, she hugged him tightly, her arms wrapping around his waist. "I will deal with my memories. I have you and Danny now to keep me grounded in the present. We'll look for a house, but I won't be chased out of here by ghosts."

He smiled at her, noting the little signs of sadness, but he knew she was right. They'd make their own memories here and anywhere else. He leaned against her, kissing her hair and murmuring his love into her ear.

~o~o~o~

Unpacking took longer than packing; there were fewer servants and it was something Lucy wanted to supervise very closely. It took nearly two weeks until they got around to the books.

"There's a library here already. We can just add these books to it. There's plenty of room," she said.

They both cast spells to increase their strength and between them they carted the heavy wooden box with their book upstairs to the library.

"I wonder if that dead elven warrior you found in those ruins ever had any idea his wonderful magic would be put to this sort of use," Anders said, musing over the humble uses of such ancient magic.

"He's probably turning over in his grave."

They began to sort through the books that Lucy had acquired and some of the ones she'd taken from the Vigil's library. Any of them that Nathaniel had expressed sentimental attachment to she'd left behind, but most of these dealt with history and some were treatises of magic.

She stopped sorting through the books and looked at one with particular interest.

"Navigating the Fade, by Luprous Grayson," she said, reading the cover. "Who names their kid Luprous?"

Anders dropped the book he had just plucked out of the crate and snatched the one she was holding. This was one book he really didn't want her to read. Maybe it would be harmless, she most likely had no recollection of all those dreams he'd shown up in. But there was no use tempting fate.

"Ha! Old Luprous. He never did finish this book. While he was writing chapter twelve he got lost in the Fade and never returned to his body. He eventually starved."

"Oh wait! This was the book we used to find you in the Fade when you were dying. Damned useful book. I think I'd like to read it." She plucked it back out of his hands.

"No, don't bother. It's trash. You already read the most useful part of it." He took it out of her hands and tossed it over his shoulder into the crate. "Absolute rubbish." His face lit up with his most charming grin. "You're going to be busy with Danny, the toilet factory, and my insatiable desires." He moved closer, nuzzling her neck. "Rawr!" he said, softly. "I'll buy you a copy of _The Art of Passionate Love, _the illustrated version, banned by the Chantry."

"I already have it." She paused for a moment looking at Anders and then at the crate. "You're trying to keep me from reading it." A look of suspicion crossed her face and she narrowed her eyes. "Why? What is in that book you don't want me to see?"

Hurt and outraged innocence crossed his face. "My love, you doubt me?"

"Now deflection! You're… you…" She broke off suddenly, a look of puzzlement crossing her face as something finally clicked into place. "You used it, didn't you? You used it to find me in the Fade." She looked a thousand miles away, her eyes seeking something they couldn't quite see.

"Now, Lucy, honey. You're imagining things."

Suddenly her eyes snapped into focus and centered on him. They seemed to hold a reddish glow, probably the reflection from the fireplace, but she looked a little demonic nonetheless.

"No, Anders. I'm not. You were there night after night! I remember a little. I remember you making love to me in a field. You were stalking me!" Her mouth fell open in shock. "No wonder I couldn't get you out of my head, you were in it every night!"

Pulling away from him, as if he revolted her, she snatched the book from the crate and leapt to her feet. "Find somewhere else to sleep tonight!"

The door slammed shut behind her and he heard her feet thundering down the stairs, anger fueling her retreat.

"Andraste's sword, what have I done?" He buried his face in his hands. Of course, she didn't remember all the terrible nightmares he had pulled her from, showing her the way to peaceful sleep. And she didn't remember that she'd been the aggressor in her dreams, the one that had pulled him down into that grassy meadow and ridden him like a hurricane.

And that first dream, the one that started it all, did she think he had contrived that too? That dream they'd shared by chance, with her rescuing him from templars and their long battle against injustice. They shared a lifetime in that dream, and a love so fierce he couldn't have given her up. Not after that. But in her waking hours she refused him, even though he knew she wanted him.

Still, he had to admit that maybe he'd gone too far. Sometimes his impulses weren't the best.

**Lucy**

I fell into bed and buried my face into a pillow, one that I imagined still smelled of a mélange of Riordan and Zevran overlaid now by Anders.

"What have I done now?" I said, my voice muffled by pillow. "I'm hooked up with someone who stalked me in my sleep." I shivered thinking how creepy such behavior was. Had he somehow manipulated me into this relationship through my dreams? The first such dream I could recall vividly. I thought the lyrium necklace was to blame, but maybe he'd been stalking me even then.

What had happened that day when we ended up in bed mostly unclothed? Oh right, that was the night Wolf had dumped me. I'd gone to my bedroom to sulk and marinate in my embarrassment. Then Anders appeared, herbal remedy in hand, determined to get my mind off him. Maker! I'd been so attracted to him. Embarrassing snippets of conversation came back to me. When the madcap had eroded my inhibitions, I had flirted shamelessly.

"Oh, god." I groaned into the pillow, my words swallowed by down. If I were being fully honest I would have to admit that I had been attracted to him from the start. Always I'd been on the verge of throwing myself at him, but I knew the folly of that right from the start. The specter of Zevran returning to reclaim me had kept those urges in check. Anders was my sort, the very kind of guy that I'd always fallen for. That's why I had pulled back. I'd been the one sending out mixed signals.

"_Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?" he said._

"_Handsomeness."_

"_If you weren't my recruit I'd…"_

And that had been the night of that dream I'd never forgotten. We were freedom fighters for mage rights, falling in love, living in a wonderful fantasy, making love by the campfire. So how was he supposed to deal with my on and off flirtations if he had fallen for me?

Groaning into the pillow, I felt ashamed of my outburst. All right, the dream-stalking was creepy in some respects, but in the context of what all had happened between us, he had courted me in the only manner he could. Sitting up abruptly I knew I'd have to apologize, but there was still a part of me rebelling and wanting him to suffer at least a little. I got out of bed and sat by a window to read the book by Luprous Grayson.

_~o~o~o~_

A golden ribbon unspooled from my hands and led me through the Fade. I'd gotten here, thanks to Luprous, and now I just needed to find Anders. I didn't have Justice along with me this time. Oh hey, Justice! I'd forgotten about him. Maybe he was here, but I was on a mission; I didn't have time to go looking for him.

Along the way I was flagged down by several Riordans, a half-dozen Zevrans, an Alistair—really?—and even a Loghain. Demons, of course, but I wasn't deterred. Seeing Riordan and Zevran, even if they were desire demons trying to tempt me, made my soul bleed a little, but I just ignored them and kept on course.

The usual Fade changed slightly as I followed the golden ribbon. Images popped into and out of existence, some of them—many in fact—I recognized. This must be the periphery of his dreamscape. Perhaps this represented a sleep stage where one isn't having coherent dreams, like non-REM sleep. I continued the journey a little longer until the ribbon ended in the midst of the mish-mash of random phantasmagorias, sounds and—very strangely—emotions I could almost feel.

I knew from Luprous's book that I'd just have to wait for a proper dream to start and just as I was about to sit in the middle of the chaotic dreamscape, a quartet of templars emerged from the chaos, swords drawn and coming right for me.

I backed up, preparing to cast a freezing spell, but part of me realized I was just in a dream. I whirled around and saw Anders behind me also preparing a spell.

I relaxed a little, realizing the templars weren't after me, they were coming for Anders, and it was only a dream. I thought I'd just watch for a while. The whole reason I was here was to try to understand what Anders was doing lurking in my dreams. I backed up, noticing he hadn't even seen me and the templars were looking right through me as well.

Before Anders could cast his spell, he was hit with a smite and thrown several yards backwards. Just as he rolled to his feet, they hit him again, and the other two templars were draining his mana. I could see the look of desperation growing on his face as he looked around for an escape.

"Stay down, mage, and we'll let you live," one growled at him.

"No we won't," the next one countered.

"Why'd we do that?" a third templar argued, "He'll just escape again."

They argued pointlessly but Anders was so drained and defeated he could barely keep to his feet. That's when thing got ugly.

"Quite a chase you led us on, boy," one sneered and backhanded him with a steel gauntleted hand.

He was flung from templar to templar and beaten. Shocked by their brutality, I screamed and tried to pull him from their grasps but they had no physical reality for me. Then I remembered Luprous's advice to cast on the dreamer. I cast a healing spell and he looked up and seemed to recognize me as the next templar landed a roundhouse to his stomach, doubling him over in pain.

"Anders," I said, trying to keep my fear out of my voice, "This isn't real. These templars aren't here."

"Lucy, run," he said, on his knees, weaving, verging on passing out.

One of the templars was taking aim at him with a metal boot, but I cast a freezing spell at him and he promptly turned into an icicle.

"Anders! It's just a dream." I hugged him tightly to me and watched the templars descending on us. They definitely saw me now too. "Change the damn channel, Anders. This dream sucks."

Just as a Sword of Mercy was about to cleave us in two, the dream faded away. The cuts, bruises, and broken bones faded away just as fast on Anders. Now we were in the Circle Tower, the second floor I judged. I saw a fair-haired boy, perhaps fifteen years old, walking down the halls with a self-assured swagger, and not a few young girls following his progress down the hall with their eyes and sighs or giggles.

"Oh geez. Why am I not surprised?" I shook my head and followed him down the hall. He made a subtle sign to one girl who looked to be several years old than him, and then I saw them slip away into a storage closet.

I could've followed him in, but I really didn't want to see what he was doing, at age fifteen, to a girl easily two years older. I waited patiently outside. Slowly, the world around me evolved. The walls were growing fleshy, like they are in the Deep Roads when you're in brood mother territory. People around me began to hunch, shuffle, and grow fangs. Then I heard the most bloodcurdling scream I've ever heard an adolescent boy make. I flung open the door and saw that it led to a room much larger than a closet, and teenaged Anders was firmly in the grip of a brood mother's tentacle, his pants around his knees, and the brood mother was reeling him toward her mouth.

"Oh crap!" I shouted uselessly, since he could neither hear nor see me. Even I was horrified by the fact that the she-monster was either going to eat him or… eat him. I cast a little lightning bolt at him, one that would just sting, and he tore his eyes away from the darkspawn fertility goddess and made eye contact with me.

"Lucy!" he screamed, his voice deepening as he suddenly aged.

"Honey, make a nice dream!" I screamed back. "Something with less darkspawn."

The tentacle let go of him, and the room dissolved including the floor. I fell, and so did he. This dream-stalking business was terrifying, I had to admit. I knew that that I couldn't really be hurt, although in my lyrium trance I might feel a sort of psychic pain. I'd awaken just like out of any dream without taking any actual damage. We seemed to fall forever, but somewhere in the process we end up entangled together, arms wrapped around one another, and I could feel his panic, his terror, as he clutched me.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," he said over and over. "This is all my fault."

"Shush, Anders. It's only a dream. Nothing can happen to us." I smiled at him and covered his face with kisses. "You can make us fly, or land in a lake of feathers. Give this dream a happy ending, my love."

At those words, Anders really seemed to see me and respond to me. "Maker, Lucy. You don't know…" His words were cut short as we fell onto a bed, the one in Vigil's Keep. "You really don't know what you do to me."

"Nice landing!" I said, grateful for an end to the shared terror of his dreams.

He began unbuttoning the dress I was wearing in his dream, but I reached up to stop his hand.

"Wait, sweetheart," I said, capturing his hands with my own. "I have to say something."

"Hm?"

He paid no attention to my words. Freeing his hands from mine, he moved them from unbuttoning my dress to squeezing my breasts, thumbs teasing across my nipples, through my clothes; little Fineger's bolts flew traveled to my spinal column and then spread throughout my body, wracking me with pleasure.

"Oh, damn." His touch felt so good, I couldn't remember what I wanted to say. He was so… _uh! _It seemed like every inhibition he had was completely gone. It was amazingly erotic to know how badly he wanted me.

His hands pinned mine above my head, as he trapped my body with his own, rubbing himself against me.

"Maker, Lucy. You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he said, apparently forgetting that we'd been lovers for several months already.

His knee slid between mine, urging my legs open. I was only too happy to oblige, my resolve to discuss dream-stalking with him weakening to the point of complete collapse.

When the dream suddenly shifted, I found we were both naked. He was just finishing tying one end of a silken scarf to the headboard of the bed, the other end entwined my wrists together.

"Mm, honey. That is kinky!" I said, not even realizing he'd entertained such notions before.

He rubbed his erection against my center and teased me. Every now and then another Fineger's bolt would rocket down my spine, lighting every nerve up like a laser. He sank himself into me, torturously slowly, a cheeky grin on his face. "I'm going to fuck you, until you scream and beg me to let you come."

I gathered my breath sharply, amazed at the things he was saying and doing to me. This inhibition-less Anders was an awful lot of fun. I redoubled that thought as he lifted one of my ankles to rest on his shoulder, leaving me more exposed and open to his fingers which were seeking the very nexus of my pleasure. I cried out, nearing climax as he skillfully ran his fingers past my slickened nub.

"Oh, no. Too soon, Lucy. Far too soon."

There was a sparkle from his fingers and I felt the familiar feeling of a Magnus block sliding over me. I'd be locked into this feeling of trembling on the verge of an orgasm until he let me go.

"Anders!" I whined, piteously.

"Oh ho," he said, chuckling at my plight. "I don't think so, not yet."

Had I been like this in my dreams? What sort of kinky depravity had I displayed in my unconscious state?

With amazing control, he slowly thrust himself into me and pulled out slowly, over and over, carefully playing me like a virtuoso. I began to gasp and beg, whining most piteously. "Please… I beg you. Anders, no more. For the love of god, the Maker, Andraste… fucking Urthemiel, Goldilocks and the seven dwarves..."—I was babbling—"Just let me come!"

If I hadn't been so wound up in such a sexual frenzy, I might have noticed the environment changing around us, taking on a darker aspect, so when the darkspawn broke down the door, charging into the room, surrounding the bed, I wouldn't have been quite so terrorized.

_~o~o~o~_

"Fuck!" I sat up in bed, heart pounding rapidly in my chest, gripped by both panic and extreme sexual desire.

I was still in the compound, alone, and exactly where I'd been several hours earlier as I'd gone into the trance described by Luprous. There were no darkspawn. Not even the tiniest flicker of them in my senses, but I still tingled, and seethed with sexual frustration, feeling even now like I had long been denied. Is this what Anders had gone through? Had he pulled me out of nightmares, only to suffer the whimsies of my unleashed id? The only difference was, I could go find Anders, wake him up and make love until we both passed out. He'd had to bear up under it all without letting on to whatever I was doing to him at night, in my sleep.

I jumped out of bed, not even bothering to find anything for my feet, or pulling on a robe, and headed to the guest room. I was relieved to find the door was unlocked. I went in and crawled into bed with him.

"Lucy?" he said, waking and turning over sleepily. "Is everything all right?" He looked at me muzzily. "I was having the craziest dreams."

"I'm sorry, Anders. I didn't understand at all. I thought about it and I saw what you went through. Maker, how on earth did you manage that?" I shuddered, thinking of the nightmares and the sexual frustration.

"Hm?" He still seemed half asleep and confused by what I was saying.

I reflected for a brief moment about being considerate and letting him go back to sleep, but there was just no way I'd be able to drop off. If I were a good person, I would suffer quietly, tossing and turning until morning, when he'd finally wake up and then I'd throw myself at him shamelessly. I should commiserate with all he'd suffered when he had been dream-stalking me and I hadn't given him the time of day. I so didn't deserve him, because I wasn't a good person. I was selfish and demanding. And right now, I was horny as hell.

He was still looking at me, but his eyes were beginning to close again.

"Oh no you don't." I reached out a hand and trailed a line of Fineger's bolts from his shoulder to his hips.

That got his attention. His eyes opened and he looked truly awake this time. "Lucy? What… I thought you were mad at me?"

"I'm completely over that, my love." I rained kisses all over his face. "I just… well, do you think you could just wake up enough to let me take terrible advantage of you?" I ran my hands down his leg and then up. I was gratified to find he was already hard, maybe a remnant of the dream.

I could see the sleepy smile on his face. "I think I could see my way to letting that happen."

I chuckled quietly and I got to finish what we had started in his dream.

As I lay in his arms afterwards, finally succumbing to sleep after being in a trance most of the night and now in post-orgasmic bliss, I had fully forgiven him and even found his acts were totally justified in a twisted sort of way. I was lucky to have found such a sweet and caring man.

"I love you, Anders," I said as the Fade finally claimed me. If he responded, I never heard it.

_~o~o~o~_

The months rolled by and I found myself remarkably content. Anders handled most of the duties involving recruiting and came to the toilet factory to give advice on enchantments whenever possible. I'd weigh in on recruits from time to time, but Wardening was pretty far from my mind as my toilet manufacturing really took off. It was beginning to seem like toilets were going to become part of the Ferelden culture. I was even starting to see orders from out of the country.

Danny was closing in on his first birthday and he was a pretty coordinated tot, walking quite well for his age. He seemed to charm everyone he met with one of his smiles. If a frown should dare to cross his face, people would go to great lengths to erase it. I was getting a little worried that he might get spoiled.

Anders and Danny were becoming best friends. He'd entertain my son with little displays of fireworks. They went outside to observe insects and birds and any sort of thing a toddler would find fascinating, which was almost everything. They even arranged beetle races and Anders would spur on the little beetles by zapping them with tiny lightning bolts. No one could make Danny laugh like Anders. He'd light up whenever Anders walked into a room and, in his baby way, beg for magical amusements.

We spent a fair amount of time in the palace visiting with Alistair, Anora, and the prince Calenhad. We saw Loghain too. He came to visit reasonably frequently and always ended up with Danny on his lap. Anders would make himself scarce knowing how much his presence irritated the general and, well, frankly it went both ways. I'd have to put up with two sulky boys after Loghain's visit. One was sulking because he missed the surly general, the other was sulking because he couldn't stand him.

Then the Landsmeet came and my contentment was marred by a lot of nasty public accusations from Fergus, not all of them untrue. He told anyone who listened I was possessed, a witch, and whatever else he could think of. Sadly, he lost credibility by his drunken, boorish behavior. By the time the issue of Amaranthine changing Teyrns came up, pretty much everyone sympathized with me and I hadn't really had to lift a finger.

Nathaniel Howe was appointed Arl of Amaranthine and I announced I was passing the mantle of Warden-Commander to him—no, I hadn't bothered asking Weisshaupt, they'd didn't need to know. No one protested too loudly because they knew I'd be around just in case the darkspawn threat erupted again. Apparently they liked my track record.

What I hadn't anticipated was how popular the announcement would be that my son was to become Loghain's heir. I brought him with me that day and he was quite the center of attention after the day's meetings had finished. The sight of him toddling around, holding onto Loghain's finger, wearing his fancy velvet suit, melted hearts everywhere.

Then, a few weeks later, I looked at the calendar and realized it had been exactly one year since I'd said goodbye to Zevran. I spent the afternoon planting a tree in remembrance of him and everything he'd done for me, for us. I planted another tree right next to it for Riordan and I watered them both with my tears.

I was fortunate to have Anders waiting for me, watching my tear-streaked face anxiously, and ready to comfort me while I got through the first anniversary of losing Zevran.

"I love you, Anders," I said that night before falling asleep. "I am a lucky woman to have you with me," I whispered to him.

"I love you too, my princess." He wrapped himself around me and we fell asleep together.

Life was actually very, very good.

**Zevran**

The swarms of gulls circling the harbor were growing fat and lazy. The bodies dumped into the harbor steadily for the last year drew fish that fed on them. Those fish thrived and reproduced, drawing the seagulls in ever larger number. It had been a yearlong feast, and it was all due to the Crows and the largest internecine war the history of the assassin's guild. But every feast must have an end.

The entire hierarchy of the Crows had been reordered by Ignacio and a mysterious Rivaini woman named Daniella. For months, Ignacio's cell had remained outside the fray as the Crows fought. Always he was seen to be trying to broker a peace accord, but something would go wrong and yet another cell would be drawn into the internal war. Ignacio officially entered the fracas when he and the Rivaini murdered Don Bertollo and massacred several cells in an act of traitorous betrayal that would be spoken of, and admired, for ages to come.

A year after Zevran stepped foot on his native shore, he was preparing to leave. He toyed with the amulet around his neck looking at the dark skinned beauty in the mirror.

Is it as easy as removing this charmed amulet to leave behind all this death, paranoia, and scheming, and return to a domestic life with a young son and a beautiful woman? he wondered. Could he turn himself from ruthless assassin once again, into what his Lucia needed and wanted, or was this who he was now?

Hand hovering over the amulet, he finally pulled it away and left the amulet in place. No sense in returning to Ferelden as himself. He could go as Daniella, look around, see how things stand. If Lucy had moved on, he would… Well, no sense in finishing that thought now. If nothing else, at least he would see the child he thought of as his, as theirs; the child that should have belonged to all three of them: Riordan, Lucy and himself.

Ah, even after all this time thinking of Riordan made his heart heavy. To think of losing her too, that the three of them should be torn apart like this—he shook his heads wondering at the cruelty of the creators of this world.

He brushed back his long, dark hair and wondered what his amore would think at this transformation. She might find a dark, exotic woman attractive. Perhaps she wasn't so solidly— eh, what was that term she used—_straight_ as she thought she was. Then again, if they were too intimate, the glamour wouldn't hold. Her mind would resolve the differences between what her senses told her and what she saw, eventually breaking the spell. Then she would see him for what he was, a man dressed as a woman.

That had necessitated one of the longest dry spells in Zevran's life. He didn't dare take a lover and risk revealing himself. Ignacio might have offered, had he shown any inclination at all, but the man and his obsession over Lucy revolted him. He was glad to be done with this business.

And he was free of Ignacio. They had parted amicably now that Ignacio had officially gained the highest position in the Crows—unofficially, the highest in Antiva—with Zevran's help. Because of this, Zevran was now, officially and forever, dead. He could walk through the streets of Antiva without his disguise and be safe from the Crows. Anyone who reported him would be personally assured, by Grand Master Ignacio himself that Zevran was dead and his ashes scattered in the harbor. Seeing Ignacio's cold, flat snake-eyes, hearing his even inflection laden with dangerous undertones, they would understand that what they had seen was definitely not Zevran and they were shockingly mistaken. If they somehow missed those cues, the fishes in the harbor would feed well again.

He finished packing and boarded the ship scheduled to leave with the morning tide. In another month he would be back in Denerim, back with his Lucia, and a part of the only family he'd known since he was very small. If she wanted him back.

At dawn, the ship pulled away from Antiva. The vibrant colors of the sunrise tinted the white plaster city to pink, and the swarms of seagulls circled the harbor looking a little harder for their next meal. Zevran watched the city from the stern as it grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared. From that moment on, he spent all his time at the bow looking for their next port of call.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__My thanks to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading! A shout-out to Zevgirl and Biff for their support and feedback, and my Elder Scrolls buddy, Heiwako. You should read their stuff, it is great!_

_I also deeply thank: tgcgoddess, Ana, drabsparrow, Shi, xKimathyx, Aynslesa, AislinnS0218, AndAgain, KrystylSky, Whirlygirl9, Biff McLaughlin, Isala Uthener, Zevgirl, KatDancer2, and Arsinoe de Blassenville. Your reviews are a real treat to receive! Thanks so much._

_If you were reading this as a book, you might be sensing that there aren't a whole lot of pages left. I'm terrible about predicting how long my stories will be, so I won't even try this time. I think that "A Southern CA" would just be a few chapters long… Hahahaha! However, we are getting close. _

_Oh yes, I just wanted to mention two related stories if you haven't read them: "The Lost Chapters", and from the DA2 Universe "Tea with Bethany" which isn't really related except by coming from the Dragon Age universe. It is the only DA2 story I will ever write because it pretty much sums up everything I thought about it in one tidy chapter. (Insert evil laugh here)._


	21. L-O-L-A Lola

**Zevran**

A flash of rust drew his attention. Below him, in the garden of the Grey Warden compound, was his first sight of his Lucia in over a year.

_Thank you, Maker. _A brief moment of spirituality welled up from somewhere and was instantly repressed by solid rationalism. It was hard to give credit or blame to a god when it seemed that the course of his life had been overwhelmingly determined by man. Where was the hand of a caring god when his little family was torn apart? If the Maker existed he was an uncaring bastard.

But for fraction of a moment, he could believe in a more sympathetic deity as Lucy backed down the stairs, bent at the waist helping a toddler navigate them. He couldn't hear what she said, but the sounds of a mother giving encouragement to her child were unmistakable. Her laughter floated up to him on the roof where he perched, concealed from sight by a dormer on a neighboring building. He watched as she swept the child into her arms and took him down the remaining stairs and sat with him in the grass. It was a fine day in Denerim, and mother and child were enjoying the beautiful weather.

This then was the woman he loved and the child he counted as his. From up here, he couldn't see much of the babe. Dark hair, fair skin, but what color were his eyes? Riordan's green or Loghain's blue? That was one of the questions that his intelligence gathering hadn't answered.

What he did know was that Lucy wasn't alone. A handsome mage lived in the compound with her and, as he managed to gather, they shared a bed. Not something he should find surprising, necessarily. He knew his lady's needs were substantial and he'd even suggested she take a lover. But he was dead to her, so what was the nature of this relationship? He hadn't been able to determine that from his discrete inquiries.

She was a heroine again, he learned. Another darkspawn disaster averted under her leadership, and northern Ferelden was mostly grateful. Some though did not share the appreciation. Her brother seemed to be on a one-man crusade to discredit her. He'd been planting people in Denerim to spread gossip about her. Zevran only hoped that gossip was the worst of it. Lucy had become a lucky talisman and the people were reluctant to give up their charmed savior, despite even overwhelming proof that she was at the very least eccentric and possibly heretical.

_Maker, if you're not a complete testa di cazzo, let my woman take me back. Otherwise… _

He left the thought incomplete because it left a cold hollow feeling in his gut that was reminiscent of how he had felt after Rinna had died. There was only one way to know if he could still have a place in her life. He scrambled down the roof and dropped to the alleyway below.

**Lucy**

"Look Danny, a beetle!" I pointed out the luminescent, green-winged beetle to my son who seemed infinitely fascinated by them. He wiggled excitedly and scrambled after it, reaching for it with chubby hands, but only managed to seize on some grass. His fine motor skills weren't fine in the least, and I was glad for it because everything he seized went in his mouth, even bugs. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I'd forced a finger into his mouth trying to fish out something disgusting he had decided to sample. Other mothers assured me it was perfectly normal behavior and, despite scaring the wits out of me, he remained incredibly healthy. Not even a sniffle had yet afflicted the kid. Maybe some of the hearty Grey Warden immunity had passed to him from me and Riordan. Or perhaps dirt was actually good for you. I'd gotten over some of the squeamishness I had brought from my clean twenty-first century earth perspective to Ferelden where I knew how filthy everything and everyone truly was. It was the way to build a healthy immune system, or so I told myself.

Riordan, yes. I was quite sure now that Danny was Riordan's spawn, so to speak. His eyes had turned a lovely shade of green. I sometimes got misty when I looked into those moss-colored eyes. I knew I would see him more and more as my son grew older. It warmed my heart to know that Riordan would live on in Danny.

"The son is as charming as the mother, I see."

My heart nearly stopped at the heavily-accented, sultry voice. I leapt to my feet and stood over Danny, lightning already crackling in my hand. "Who is there?" I couldn't see who had spoken.

"Ah, there is no need to be alarmed. I am a friend."

A dark-haired woman stepped out of the shadows created by shrubs and trees in the garden. Everything about her shouted "danger". She had that look I'd come to associate with Crows: polished and deadly, like a finely honed blade.

"I don't have any friends among the Crows," I said, nearly spitting the words. "I suggest you make a strong case for why I shouldn't kill you where you stand."

"Because, mi señora, I have brought you something from one who loved you deeply, Zevran Arainai. Before he perished—mostly bravely, I must say—he made me promise to seek you out. He said that you might be suspicious of me, so I must tell you something only he would know so that you know my intentions are honest."

I let the lightning flicker out in my hand, but I was dubious. Still, the Crows didn't usually announce themselves. And I was curious, very curious. I'd never really felt a sense of closure over Zevran's loss.

"Soft Corinthian leather," the Crow said softly. Her eyes held mine and looked almost soft, something I wouldn't expect from a Crow.

"What does that mean? I never did get to ask him," she asked.

I sucked in my breath and my mind rocketed back in time to when I'd only just met Zevran. Almost immediately a flirtation had sprung up between us. One night, he'd offered me an Antivan massage and it was his voice, his accent so like Ricardo Montalbán's, that had dissolved whatever weak resistances I'd had. Those words had been ones I'd asked him to say simply to hear his voice. I turned away from her to hide the tears springing to my eyes.

"Warden? I am sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No." I held up my hand. "I'm all right." I wiped away the tears that were threatening to run down my cheeks. Turning toward her again, my face pinching with emotion, I managed a welcoming smile anyway. "Please, come into the compound. I apologize for my wariness." I picked up Danny and we walked in together.

She stared at Danny and gave him a smile which he returned. "Your wariness is only natural given the troubles the Crows have caused you, Señora Cousland."

"Please, call me Lucy."

"You may call me Daniella," she replied.

I got her seated in the parlor, but I had Danny in my arms still. "Let me find Danny's nurse and then we can talk. He can be a little distracting."

"Lucia, if you please, do not send him away. I know one thing Zevran dearly wanted was to see his baby. He could not, but I will send my prayers to him and tell him about his handsome son."

Her words brought me to tears again. I seated Danny on the floor between us, and then sat on the divan across from her. I remembered how Zevran had sworn he would never abandon me and our baby and then he'd been forced to break his word. I was swallowed up with a grief I'd never really faced. I had been too distracted by darkspawn and dealing with everything that came afterward. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.

"Lucia," she said softly.

There was something familiar about the way she said my name, but I was too distraught to really pay attention to it. She got up, sat next to me, picked up my hand and held it in hers.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to make you cry." She pulled a soft handkerchief out of a pocket and handed it to me.

Hiccupping, I took the cloth from her, blew my nose, and then dried the tears. I worried that my display would frighten Danny, but he only looked intrigued by what we were doing. He crawled over to us and pulled himself upright by clinging to my legs.

"Daniella, I'm sorry. I thought I was past this. I guess… I guess I'm not. Why didn't he ever write?" I was wishing I had letters from him. They were something tangible I could touch, and perhaps hear his voice when I read them.

"He tried, Lucia, but he was afraid the letters would be intercepted and serve to remind the Crows you could be used to capture him. A dozen of them he wrote, but he burned every one."

The waterworks threatened to start again that revelation. Then it struck me that this woman seemed to know an awful lot about him. Had they been lovers?

"You… knew him well?" I asked. How could I resent her for that? I'd certainly tried to find someone to fill in for him. _What's good for the goose is good for the gander_, or visa-versa.

"We were…close. Like brother and sister. You could say we grew up together. There was nothing between us. Nothing like you two shared, mia cara. He spoke of you often, though." She smiled and looked down at her hand holding mine. "Of how much he loves… loved you and his bitter sorrow at having to leave you."

My face crumpled again and the tears restarted. I gulped and sobbed noisily. Danny looked at me with confusion, beginning to look upset himself. I had to get this under control.

The Antivan woman's eyes filled with pity. She hugged me, patting my back with her… very large hands. I hadn't realized it until she embraced me how large her hands were. "Shush now, Lucia. Zevran would want you to be happy and have happy memories of your time together. This I know about him."

I nodded and managed to quiet my sobs. My noisy crying always bugged me. I wished I could be one of those women who rains dainty tears into a handkerchief. That just wasn't my way. When I was sad, I was messy and noisy. My nose ran like a river, my face went blotchy red, and my sobs were epic. Even worse, once I got started, stopping was hard.

I can imagine that Anders, when he walked in, was shocked by the sight of me wracked by a grief he'd never seen before, not even when I had first learned of Zevran's death. I'd had to postpone it and deal with the darkspawn first. Now though, it was fresh. I felt like I'd lost him all over again.

"Lucy?" he said, pausing at the doorway to the parlor and looking at me and the woman hugging me, rubbing my back. "What is it?"

I don't know why, but I pulled away from Daniella, feeling almost guilty, and jumped to my feet. Then I was embarrassed over my strange reaction. I dashed the tears away from my eyes. "Oh!" I hurried over to Anders and dragged him into the parlor. "Anders, please meet Daniella. She was a friend of Zevran's."

"Ah… I was wondering why..." Anders looked at me, then turned his attention to Daniella. "Pleased to meet you, Daniella." He extended a hand and Daniella gracefully put hers into his.

"The pleasure is mine," she said. I noticed her gaze rather boldly raked him, as if she were evaluating his future as an underwear model. It reminded me sharply of another Antivan, one whose glance could strip you naked and was either followed by highly inappropriate lustful remark or a scornful turn of his lips, depending on who you were.

There was a moment of confused silence as we three looked at one another.

"Ah, I nearly forgot," Daniella said. "There's the matter of the things Zevran wanted you to have." She reached for her bag and dug out a pair of very familiar looking daggers, housed in their elaborately styled sheathes.

I knew those daggers well. "The Rose's Thorn and Serpent's Tooth," I muttered and the tears began again. The _Thorn _was a dagger I purchased for him in Orzammar and the _Serpent's Tooth _was a heavily enchanted Crow dagger he had named. The sheathes, I'd had commissioned. One was decorated with roses and the other with snakes.

My hand flew to my mouth and I closed my eyes remembering him with those daggers strapped to his back and how carefully he cared for them. More than anything, this brought home the fact that he was gone.

Anders crossed the parlor as if to come comfort me, but Daniella beat him to it. Once again she folded me into a gentle hug, murmuring comforting things. When I stopped sobbing she pulled me back to the sofa and we sat again.

"He told me that you should use these daggers and keep them with you always. He also said I should make sure your skills weren't getting rusty." Here she paused and fixed me with a piercing look. "Mia cara, have you kept your fighting skills up?"

I flushed a little and looked away. "Well, with the baby and the factory—not really, to be honest."

"Tsk, tsk! Zevran was always concerned about your safety. I will take it upon myself, with your permission, to resume your training. Yes?"

"I think that would be a good idea," Anders said, smiling winningly at Daniella. "Honey, don't you think you could carve out an hour each day to train with Daniella?"

Irritation made my scalp prickle as my temper flared. I hadn't been kidding when I said I was busy. "Anders, darling," I said, using _that_ tone of voice. "What do I take out of my schedule? Your lessons in you-know-what?" I didn't like to talk about our shape-shifting lessons in front of people. "My work at the factory? My time with Danny?"

"The factory managed without you for a year. You need to give your factory manager more credit. He's done a fine job," he said. "I'd feel better knowing your fighting skills are still sharp. Maker knows you've had to use them often enough."

Daniella squeezed my hand and nodded. "He speaks sense. Think of what Zevran would say."

I was beaten with that. I could practically hear Zevran chiding me into practicing more. He could really make himself a pain in the butt when he felt I wasn't training enough. Back then, I was a little irritated by it, but now I'd give almost anything to have his sweet, flirtatious nagging back.

"All right, you two win. I will get back to my training again. It never hurts to have a backup method in case a templar puts one of those anti-magic collars on me." I shivered, remembering the templars I'd barely escaped months ago.

"Very wise," Daniella said.

Anders smiled warmly at me and then our conversation lapsed and we all looked at one another in a long awkward moment. I leapt to my feet. "Forgive me, Daniella. I don't know where my manners are. You've come here all the way from Antiva. Would you like to stay with us? We've got plenty of room here at the Warden compound. We were just going to have supper and I'd be honored if you would join us." I cast a quick glance at Anders thinking I should probably have asked him first, but then again… Naw, I outranked him.

"Thank you, Lucia. I will take you up on the offer. Perhaps I can take in the sights while I am here. Will you show me around your lovely city? I understand you have a—I do not know the word, a fabbrica… a place you make things."

"A factory? Yes. I'd love to show it to you." I stood and so did Daniella and I walked her, arm in arm, to the dining room. I had a feeling we might become good friends.

_~o~o~o~_

I was admittedly out-of-shape compared to my wardening days. Soaked in sweat, my back pressed against the wall, Daniella's blunted dagger rested gently against the artery in my neck. Her black hair blew about us in the wind and her lively black eyes snapped with some emotion I couldn't quite place.

"Ah, Lucia, it seems I have you again."

Her eyes flickered to my lips and wandered back up to meet my own. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to reset our match. She had me pinned against the wall and it felt like an immense static field was building up around us.

I glanced at the fence where Anders was sitting watching us spar. He had an almost eager look frozen on his face as he watched us.

The world seemed to hang, suspended in time, only Daniella and I were moving—and the wind. It was a windy day.

For two weeks now, she had been training me and every day some small touch, or look, suggested that she wanted me for a completely different sort of physical activity. I was getting more nervous about spending time with her, especially alone. I was just going to have to be direct and tell her I didn't swing that way.

Except it would be a lie. Truthfully, I wouldn't have missed one of these training sessions for the second coming of Andraste.

And now, here we were suspended in time, with Anders watching, as her lips came down on mine in a kiss. Her fingers feathered against the nape of my neck as she teased my lips with her own, nipping, licking, gently coaxing me further into abandonment of my inhibitions of doing _this_ with another woman.

"Lucia," she moaned against my lips. "I long for you."

I could only groan in repressed sexual desire. My lover was watching me as I was being unfaithful with a woman. My eyes reluctantly shifted away from Daniella's dark beauty to my mage watching us.

"No," I moaned. "I can't, Daniella." At the same time I reached out and pulled her against me.

"_Can't." I whispered. "This is wrong."_

"What is wrong?"

My eyes cracked open to see Anders propped up in bed looking at me with a gleam in his eye.

"Wait, what?" I looked around the room and realized I'd been asleep and dreaming a very real-seeming dream.

"You were moaning in your sleep. Very erotically, I might add. Then you began to writhe like a cat in heat." His smile twisted into a sly look. "That didn't seem like a darkspawn dream. Or if it was, you're way kinkier than even I knew."

"Hmmm," I said, turning over to look at him, "Not a darkspawn dream. I dreamed of…" I paused, wondering how Anders would react, "Well, it was a sex dream."

"All right, kind of guess that," he murmured, nuzzling my ear. "Details, woman. Did it involve pouring warm honey on your breasts? Because… I had that dream a while back."

"Well, no, Anders. It didn't involve food. And, um, you weren't in it." I paused a moment when his face fell and then remember he did have a bit part. "Oh wait, no you were there watching, with keen interest, I might add."

"Watching, huh?" His hands swarmed under the covers, converging on a thigh. "Tell me, what was I watching? And who was I watching?"

I flushed, as much from his hands gliding up my thigh and across my belly, as from embarrassment. "Well, you see, it was Daniella and me. We were sparring, like we do every day, only she pinned me against the compound wall and began to kiss me. Maker…" I trailed off, remembering the forbidden hotness of that kiss. I'd never done _that_ with a woman and certainly hadn't gone to the place Dream Daniella was angling to take me.

From between my breasts, where Anders had his head buried, I heard a chortle. "I thought you said you weren't attracted to women? Although, I can hardly fault you. She is something else."

"I'm not—ordinarily. But she's been oozing sensuality in the weeks she's been here. She reminds me of Zevran in that way. Very flirty. I feel like every time she looks at me she's mentally undressing me and throwing me on the sofa." I laughed a little nervously, curious at my own reaction to her. "It must be an Antivan thing. I haven't met all that many Antivans but they always seem to be on the prowl in that way."

"Hm."

His hand tracked up my inner thigh and brushed lightly against my sex, a finger taking stock of the humidity in the region.

"Should I be jealous? Or turned on?" he asked.

"Mmmm, turned on. It was just a crazy dream. But I think I'm going to have a hard time going back to sleep unless…" I cut myself short by pushing Anders on his back and straddling him. "Mama needs some sugar."

I could see the flash of his grin in the dark. "The candy store is open, mama."

"Good. I want your peppermint stick."

The conversation ended and we both forgot about what it was that had awoken me.

_~o~o~o~_

His palms itched for the feel of his daggers. Anders—she loved him; that was obvious. When the mage was whispering whatever obscene things were making her laugh, a cold numbness gripped him. Not hot-blooded rage; that was trained out of Crows. This was the instinct to wait and watch, like a cat waiting quietly and patiently at a gopher hole. When the mage swung Danny onto his shoulder and brought a torrent of giggles from him, his killing instinct tugged at him. The mage had usurped his place.

But how could he resent anyone who made her as happy as this mage did? The last few weeks he and Lucy had bonded as only two women can, sharing stories of their lives—although his were invented—their loves, their heartbreaks. He was both one of those loves, and one of those heartbreaks. When she looked out into the distance, eyes glittering with unshed tears and spoke of Zevran, he wanted to confess his masquerade and end this game. But the mage made her happy. How could he take away yet another person she loved? She had lost too much.

It was only a matter of days before he realized he had no right to reclaim a part of her life, but he couldn't make himself leave. At night he climbed out onto the roof of the Warden compound and watched the stars, resolving that he would leave the next day. But Danny would wrap a chubby hand around his finger and his resolve would evaporate, or Lucy would give him a smile and a friendly hug, and he'd catch a whiff of her scent. Each time he would put it off a few more days.

Besides, Lucia needed whipping into shape_. Pah! _It was shameful how her fighting skills had deteriorated. Complacent. She'd grown far too content, too slow, too trusting. You can't trust life. Around every corner is someone who wants something you have and is willing to kill for it. This was life as he knew it, and trouble always swirled around her. Magic had its place, but in his experience it was unreliable. He decided he would work with her until she improved substantially.

"Faster!" he called to her as she went through the choreographed patterns of movement. "One, two, and three." He clapped his hands at the tempo he wanted her to follow. Zevran rose, shaking his head. "No, no. Too slow! Keep the pace up."

His pupil slashed viciously at the air to the front, then fell away into a ready stance, anticipating her invisible adversary's next move, but she turned her head toward him and glared. "I'm doing the best I can!"

Zevran almost laughed and relented, but for her own good he didn't. "You're a dead woman, Lucia." He threw up his hands and put them back on his hips. He had been particularly hard on her today, but she wasn't improving as fast as she should be—as fast as he wanted her to.

With eyes smoldering like black coals and face rigid with anger, the air began to shimmer around her. "I've got your fast right here," she growled. Suddenly she was right next to him, blunted dagger stroking his throat. "Now tell me I'm not fast enough."

Dripping with sweat, her hair escaping from her braids, still piqued by his stinging commentary on her performance, she was glorious. "Ragazza," he said, in his most sultry Daniella voice, "you are many things: Gorgeous, talented, desirable, but sadly, you are also too slow." He raised his hand and put his finger gently under her chin. Wanting to kiss her he slowly moved closer, watching her eyes widen with surprise and—could it be desire? How intriguing. But at the last moment he lightly bussed her cheek with his lips.

"Crow women know they have to sacrifice their tits and asses for the speed they need. Perhaps you should cut back on the chow a little, hm? Eat enough for three instead of four?"

What possessed him to say that? It came from a place of hurt; that he couldn't kiss her as she needed to be kissed right now. It was the realization that he had been lingering here too long, perhaps hoping for exactly this moment when Lucy would be sorely tempted by him… or rather, Daniella. But under all the false hope, he knew the pain she would feel betraying her mage lover, and that was what drove him to make the catty remark.

Lucy pulled away looking like she'd just been slapped, her mouth gaping in disbelief. "You… you… Did you just say I'm fat?"

Her voice rose to an octave above normal, a range Zevran knew well. This was his Lucia with hurt pride and in a high dudgeon. In another moment she'd storm away unless he soothed her, stroked her bruised ego, or turned what she perceived as an insult into a complement and then seduced her. That was always fun. She was always her best in bed when she was half angry. No. He wouldn't get to take advantage of her anger-fueled energy; the mage would.

It was a strange moment to finally understand that he had delayed too long. A part of him had clung to hope that something would change and she would be free of the mage—free to be his. He was a fool.

"Not fat, cara. You are perfection. I was being overzealous. I forget you are not a Crow hatchling. You're a Grey Warden, entirely different and just as deadly." He turned away from her and scanned his surroundings out of habit, and to avoid her eyes. "Perhaps we should stop for the day, yes?"

"What is it?" Lucy's anger was fading and she looked puzzled now. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine." The smile that stretched across his face felt false. "I must apologize, Lucia. You've actually improved a lot. I wish I could stay longer and continue to train you, but it is time for me to leave. There are things I must do. I have put them off too long."

"But… you can't just leave like that." Lucy looked bewildered, even sad. "I'm sorry. I'll work harder at my training and you're right. I haven't been attending to it like I should. Maker, if anyone should know I need to keep up with it, it should be me. Those templars…"

He closed his eyes a moment and let the music of her voice wash over him. "No, it isn't that. You should continue to train, but it is time I left."

"Daniella?"

Her voice sounded hurt and puzzled, but he turned away from her and began to walk back to the compound. The sound of Lucy running to catch him soon followed. She gripped his arm and stopped him.

"Will you at least stay one more evening? We can have a nice supper, throw back a few drinks, and maybe reminisce about Zevran once more?"

He stopped, turned to her and nodded. "One more night, bella."

Something in his face made Lucy stop following him and her expression turned to sadness. Perhaps subconsciously she had recognized him and so by his leaving she was losing him again. The handsome mage would be there to comfort her. He seemed like a fine man, devoted to her and Danny, with an irreverent sense of humor he knew she would appreciate.

Yes, Lucia would be fine.

And he—well, this time he could truly tackle the impossible. Perhaps he would kill Ignacio, or try to kill him. His chances of succeeding were miniscule, of course, but it would be a fun way to go. For one last time he could count the bodies and glory in his scorekeeping until he finally fell. He didn't have any desire to try to start life over somewhere else. Offering his services to a ruler would be anticlimactic after the Blight and the Crow war.

He undressed slowly, watching himself in the mirror. He no longer saw Daniella, just himself as he was without the glamour: a man disguised as a woman. Granted, he was credible looking, even without the spell, but his arms were too thick, and his bosom not thick enough. His jaw was too wide, and his neck was too thick. Once he left Denerim there would be no more need for this disguise. It would be a relief to be himself once again.

**Lucy**

I readily confess to being rather sad and out-of-sorts that evening. I could see the same emotion reflected in Daniella's mood. Anders kept trying to jolly us out of the funk we'd descended into on the last night of her visit. He plied us both with drinks until I was quite tipsy and spilling some of the more inane stories of the Blight.

"Did I ever tell you about how Zevran taught Alistair to kiss?" I said. My funk had mellowed into a slight downer, tinged with silliness, and wrapped in just a hint of irony.

"King Alistair?" Anders asked. "Our King Alistair?"

"Yup. Although back then he was just Alistair, or Ali-bear. Quite the prude and ever so innocent."

"That sounds like Zevran," Daniella said. "No one's virtue was safe from him. No templar, and certainly no Chantry sister."

"So how did he do it?" Anders asked. His curiosity truly piqued now.

"Well," I said, settling back in my chair and staring into the fire. The memories of the Blight came back. Funny how now I could conjure them up and my losses didn't sting as much. I poured myself another drink and noted the bottle was empty, so I laid it on its side and gave it a spin.

"Spin-the-bottle, actually. It was the night after the Landsmeet where I had dueled Arl Howe. We all got drunk and I confess most of the night is hidden in a fog of drunken amnesia. But reliable sources tell me that I taught my friends the adolescent kissing game and Zevran taught Alistair to kiss."

Daniella's eyebrow arched elegantly as she looked at me. "And who did you kiss?"

"Yes. Spill it, Lucy." Anders looked highly interested in the topic.

"Well, I don't actually remember that, but Riordan suggested I'd tried to suck his face off." My foolish face went hot with the memory. I would never forget how powerfully attracted I'd been to Riordan. Sure, drunk or not, I'd have probably leapt at the opportunity.

Anders reached across the table and took the bottle. "So you spin it and kiss who it points to?" He gave it an experimental twist and it began rotating. It slowed and then stopped, pointing to me.

"Yes. Of course, we added the rule that if it didn't point to anyone you had to take a shot of brandy."

"Shall we play?" Anders said, looking at me with a goofy mix of expressions: something like challenge combined with wide-eyed, puppy-dog begging.

"I'm game," Daniella said, looking at me expectantly.

This wasn't the Blight. I wasn't a middle-aged woman newly reborn into twenty-year-old woman's body with the excessive horniness of the Grey Warden—I still had that, but my self-control was better these days. I had a son. I was respectable. I wasn't carrying on like I expected the world to end any day. So what can I blame for my answer? It depends on how honest I wanted to be with myself. The easy answer was 'It's the booze.' The more nuanced answer was 'I want to,' but heavily laden with flimsy reasons on why it was okay and actually a good idea. From experience, I knew that I'd get around to filling out all those reasons why and would eventually make it sound fairly valid to my own ears. For the moment though, I wasn't thinking quite that critically.

"Then according to the rules, Anders, you spun the bottle, you'd need to kiss me."

He got out of his chair and circled to where I sat in mine. I took his extended hand and he pulled me out of the chair into his arms.

"Let's see how you do this in Ferelden," Daniella said. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

Anders seemed intent on trying to impress Daniella. I let him take the lead and he put all his considerable skill into the kiss. He even augmented the experience with some minor magic that made gentle sparks fly off his fingers as he trailed them down my neck.

We finally broke off the kiss to Daniella's slow applause. Anders sat down and passed the bottle to Daniella. The bottle went around our circle again before the bottle actually pointed to a person and our Antivan house-guest finally had to kiss me. With a smile tinged by smugness, she pulled me out of my chair and into her arms with the same sort of intensity she did everything. There was just a moment of hesitation as her lips approached mine and she whispered, "Close your eyes, cara." Maybe she had sensed the little bit of trepidation I was feeling. I'd never kissed a woman before…well, not like this.

Obeying her, I shut my eyes. There seemed to be a long moment and then just the slightest brush of her lips against mine. I thought she was teasing me, making a big buildup just to leave me with a bare grazing of lips, but then they were back, a light kiss at the corner of my mouth and a quick scrape of teeth against my bottom lip. I was leaning toward her, my eyes still closed, hoping my more.

The third time I could feel her breath hot against my lips, waiting. That was when reality shifted. Could we have senses so subtle that they have never been defined? Isn't it possible there are pheromone receptors in our nostrils, or lips, and some part of the brain is dedicated to the processing and recognition of a mate? Whatever the reason, when her lips met mine I felt the presence of Zevran so keenly that it could have been him kissing me. I kept my eyes closed to preserve the illusion, but tears seeped out the sides anyway.

I melted into her, my arms held her as close as they possibly could trying to keep the illusion cemented by physical contact. She responded in kind, pulling me closer and kissing me deeper. I thought perhaps the oddly unreal illusion would go away but it only grew stronger. That! Right there, the way his… her… tongue slid across mine, the hand dropping from my waist to my hip then pulling me. I could practically feel _his_ growing excitement. _What?_

Then she jumped away from me and I from her. My eyes flew open and she was staring at me with _his_ amber-brown eyes.

"Ladies?" Anders said sounding a little aggrieved at being so completely forgotten.

I barely heard Anders. _His_ amber eyes? Daniella has dark brown eyes, almost black. You could barely distinguish the pupil from the iris. Yet they were most certainly another color now. That was when I noticed a dozen other details: Daniella had a thick neck, large hands, not much of a waist, and no cleavage.

"Ladies!" Anders said, alarm growing in his voice. "What's going on?"

"Lady," I mumbled, unable to move my eyes, still trying to make sense of what my eyes were trying to tell me but my intellect was unable to accept.

Daniella did nothing but stare at me with the wrong eyes, awaiting my next move.

"Lucy? What is wrong…"

I cut him short. "There's only one woman in this room." That jaw… I'd nibbled on that jaw. I had kissed my way down that neck. What was wrong with me? Why hadn't I noticed it before this?

Anders got up and joined us, looking at her critically. "Have you lost your mind, Lucy?"

"Tsk, tsk," a familiar voice said, one I thought I'd never hear again. "That is no way to talk to the most desirable woman in all of Thedas." Daniella reached up to her throat and yanked at her necklace. It broke and she… he casually threw it on the table.

"Andraste's knickers…" Anders favorite oath trailed off in mid-curse.

My hands flew to my mouth and I stared at him, my mind still unable to process anything.

"A glamour. A fucking glamour," Anders said. He picked up the amulet and examined it closely. "A damned good one. I've never seen such a powerful illusion spell."

"The Crows can afford the best magic available. Even forbidden magics," Zevran said. He looked at me, his eyes softening with concern. "Lucia…"

The realization that he had nearly left without revealing himself, allowing me continue to believe he was dead, punctured my dazed mind. That thought was followed by anger._ How could he?_ I lashed out with my hand and struck him across the cheek. "You jerk! You complete and utter jerk!"

I could see him watching the trajectory of my hand and he never bothered to dodge the blow, taking the force of it. It left a red handprint on his cheek.

"I am sorry, mi amore. I should not have come. Better to let you think I am dead than to disrupt your life like this. I wanted to see our… to see Daniel, to see you one last time. It was selfish of me. I knew better."

"No!"_ This defeated man/woman in front of me was Zevran? He had somehow survived his trip to Antiva just to give up now? To part from me forever?_ "You can't. You survived whatever happened and you're going to run away and hide? From Daniel and me?" I whirled around to look at Anders and saw him change before my eyes. From bemused, to puzzled, and now his face echoed the same defeat I saw in Zevran's.

"I'm the intruder here," he said softly. "I always knew this day might come. Well, at least until we heard you were dead. I'll pack my things in the morning. I'm sure they've still got room for me at the Vigil."

"Goddammit, Anders!" I ran my hands through my hair, pulling on it with my frustration until it escaped its tie and blossomed into a shrub. "No!"

Zevran was starting to look more like a drag queen as my brain resolved the illusion into reality. Then it hit me, his tattoo was gone. That graceful double-swoop that followed his cheekbones down to his chin was completely missing. I reached out a hand to trace where it should have been. His hand came up to capture mine and he closed his eyes for a moment as if relishing my touch and embossing it onto his memory forever.

"Ah, this is an interesting situation," he said lightly, his voice now sounding exactly like I remembered, even tinged with his sense of irony. "It reminds me of a time when I had my knife to the throat of an enemy and someone else had a loaded crossbow pointed at my back. A Rivaini stand-off they call it. Fortunately for me, there was a fourth person no one saw who lobbed a fireball." He sighed heavily. "Although this is much less violent."

"Maker, Zevran." I started to cry, despite my intention to stay stoic. "Why did you let me believe you were dead? Why didn't you write? Why…" I hiccupped with a particularly loud sob, unable to finish.

"Cara, please. Don't be angry. I would have written if it were possible, but I feared they might decide to go after you and the baby again to get to me. I had to _die_. They needed to think I was gone. After that I became Daniella, and Ignacio and I fought our way to the top. They will never bother us again. I trust Ignacio, at least that far."

"I just can't believe—You're alive, Zevran!" Suddenly I was laughing and crying. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed into his neck. "I should have known you'd find a way."

"Ah, my Lucia, not even I knew that." He stroked my hair and kissed my cheek. "I nearly died, more than once. That I could live to return to you and Daniel, I never would have believed possible."

"That fortune-teller was right, Zev. You're going to live to be an old man." I remembered him telling me that story one night around the camp fire. My heart sang. In a way, having Zevran back was almost like having Riordan back too. He was my connection to everything that had happened in the Blight: our successes, our losses, and our eventual victory over the archdemon.

In the emotional tsunami, I had forgotten about Anders. When Zevran kissed me again, I remembered. Turning around to look for him, I saw that he was gone. Reality slapped me even more viciously than I had slapped Zevran. I was going to lose someone I loved and there was no getting around it. Even worse, I had to make the decision.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes:**__ Phew! Going back and forth between my two stories is really hard. I don't make the shift easily. Anyway, I've been super busy lately. I'm having issues with my back and I'm doing MRIs, physical therapy, and so on. I'm often too exhausted at the end of the day to write and I got out of the habit. _

_If there's one thing that I know makes the muse disappear it is inconsistency. So I'm going to try very hard to write more consistently. I won't promise anything, but I think I'll stay with this story until I'm finished. I'm very close!_

_My thanks to Biff for beta-reading! Woo hoo! And Zevgirl for being my buddy, Biff too for that matter. _

_And a special thanks to xKimathyx, CynderJenn, Penelore, ShadowDmn, Shi, Aynslesa, rubberleg, AndAgain, Arsinoe de Blassenville, tgcgoddess, KatDancer2, Biff and Zevgirl, for taking the time to review._

**Translations**

_testa di cazzo - dickhead  
>cara - dear<br>Mia cara - my dear  
><em>_fabbrica - factory__  
><em>


	22. False and Falsetto

**Anders**

_Ha! Crow on the first try. Nothing like stress and high emotions to make magic work. Well, except for those times when it refuses to._ Irony was a good defense against the emotions that were going to be very unpleasant when they caught up to him. But for now, every beat of his wings took him further away from seeing exactly how much Lucy still loved her once dead, but now very much alive, lover.

And sure, he knew exactly what it would cost her to have to decide between them. She'd warned him in the Deep Roads that first time they had really kissed.

"_It would tear me in two. I couldn't let Zevran go."_

Back then, he'd been so certain that the future would take care of itself. He let his own impulses blind him to what she had been saying. And yes, the future did take care of itself, for a while. He simply hadn't counted on his predecessor rising from the dead.

_I'm so bloody, stinking noble. I took it on myself to make the decision to go so she wouldn't have to. Congratulations, Zevran, you got the girl. Oh, and by the way, you're disturbingly hot as a woman. _

He silenced his train of thought and flew, simply concentrating on the sound his wings made beating the air.

_Now what?_

The thoughts came back in another torrent. He could just keep flying and be out of Ferelden altogether in a few days. Or… there was always the Ferelden Circle.

_Ha!_ _Wouldn't it be a pisser if I just show up and knock on the door. Hi, it's me, Anders. I don't know if you recall me… Oh, you do? Yes, well, I was wondering if I might come back and uh… study a bit. Do some research on darkspawn magic, that sort of thing. Can I have my old bedroom back? No… not the one in the bottom level of the dungeon, the other one. Yes, that one, with the little brick you can move out of the way to look right into the female apprentices' bathing room. Right! That's the one. The one I shared with Karl._

His old roommate had gone along with the game, peeking through the hole and spying on the girls, but his true interest had been in Anders. It had taken awhile, but eventually Karl had expanded the horizons of the ever curious Anders. There came a time when Anders stopped moving the loose brick to peek at the girls and he wondered if he ever would again, but the next escape attempt ended that episode of his life.

_Whatever happened to Karl? _He hadn't seen him since his last, and ultimately successful, escape. He felt guilty. He should have at least written, if nothing else. Maybe Karl could help him deal with this.

His mind settled as his wings beat through the air. Beat. Beat. Beat. Glide. He began to learn the most efficient way of flying and covering distances. There were pockets of warmer air that carried him aloft, and he began to learn how to find them. The physical task of flying engaged his mind and senses, but only until the next flurry of thoughts arrived.

_If I'd stayed could we have worked it out?_

Obviously Lucy and Zevran had been involved in a triangle before, but that had been different. She and Zevran had been lovers, as had Zevran and Riordan, then Lucy and Riordan. From there it was a short step to a bed shared by all three of them. This was different. They were complete strangers. Not even Anders was adventurous enough to suggest such an arrangement with someone he didn't know.

The urge to seek out Karl grew. If anyone would understand, it was him. Whatever there had been between Anders and Karl, there was still a strong friendship.

He turned his beak northwest and headed to the Circle tower.

**Zevran**

When a rat drowns it ceases swimming and slips under the water quietly. There is little fuss about it. You hardly notice how still the water had become until one day you remember there had been a rat swimming.

Until an hour ago, he'd been at the end of his reserves. He was going to slip away, like the rat, but a kiss had finally put an end to the struggle that had started more than a year ago.

The woman he loved, the one he fought for in Antiva, was in his arms, plastered against his chest, her arms wrapped possessively about his waist, and soaking the dress he'd worn that evening with her tears. "Amore, I am sorry. It is my fault he left. I will help you find him, then I will leave, yes? A simple solution."

The words left his mouth out of a sense of duty, not out of any desire for this outcome. The woman sobbing in his arms was crying from both happiness and loss. She shook her head violently, unable to form a coherent sentence yet.

"I thought you were de-eh-eh-eh…" The sentence trailed off into more gulping, heart-wrenching sobs.

"Shhhh, shhhhh, Lucia. I am here. Do you want me to stay?"

This time his answer was violent nodding.

"All right, I will stay, mia cara." He held her, stroking her hair until her sobs finally quieted and she looked up at him with swollen, red eyes.

"I promised the Maker I'd devote my life to spreading the Chant if he would just return you. I'd better go take my vows tomorrow morning," she said, managing a weak smile.

He chuckled and tweaked a lock of her hair. "Ah, I'm sure he is used to such empty promises."

"From me, definitely." She wiped her sleeve across her nose and rubbed the last of the tears off her cheeks. "Besides, the bastard doesn't give anything for free." She sat upright and her face looked about to crumble into tears again.

"No," Zevran agreed. "No, he certainly doesn't. It seems you've lost as much as you've gained."

"I told Anders once, before I found out you were dead, that I'd never leave you. I said if you came back—I knew I would fall in love with him. I wouldn't let myself get too close to him. Then those Antivans came and gave me the necklace with a little of the Joining blood in it. I lost it, Zev. I didn't think I could hold it together and deal with all that darkspawn crap, but he kept me from falling apart."

Guilt nipped at his heels, like a mean little dog. His return had made her both happy and miserable. "You love him." Well, that was obvious. What wasn't obvious was how to deal with it.

She nodded and her lip quivered. "I'm sorry."

"Tut, tut." He pulled her back to him again. "Don't apologize. These things happen, no? Two Wardens drawn together in a dangerous time. Sounds familiar doesn't it?"

"It is, and isn't. I think when he took over my body to heal himself, it linked us together in a way neither of us realized," she said. Her eyes focused far away and her brows gathered together again.

Zevran stiffened and pushed his long, black hair out of the way, gaining a moment to think. "What was that again, amore? I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

"Oh, of course. You wouldn't know about that." Lucy sat up and held Zevran's hands in hers. "He was mortally wounded and the only one skillful enough to heal him was, well, him. So I went into the Fade and we were going to switch bodies, but it didn't work. We both ended up with our consciousness in my body. I put myself to sleep and he was able to take over and heal himself."

"Brasca, Lucia!" Zevran swore. "What if things had gone wrong? Such a risk!"

She was silent for a moment. "I couldn't not try."

"There's a lot you should probably know. Things didn't go as planned while you were gone. The darkspawn, my untrained Wardens, the various conspiracies, oh, and stupid Fergus Cousland." She settled back into his arms. "Did I mention that Anders saw me naked the first day we met?"

"Amore? That's forward, even for you," he teased her.

A sad smile spread over her face. "He delivered Danny my first night in Amaranthine. Right after the first darkspawn attack."

An abbreviated story of her past year spilled out and Zevran listened attentively while coiling tendrils of her hair around his fingers. There was a flood of feelings: anger that he hadn't been on-hand to protect her, relief that she survived, and yes, jealousy that Anders had been the one to give her comfort.

"What about you, Zev? Tell me what happened in Antiva," she asked as she finished her own abridged story.

He shook his head. "I am no longer a Crow. That is the only important thing." He had no desire to relive any part of his year in Antiva. It was a part of his past he would happily wipe from his memory if he could. The past year was brutal even by Crow standards. The violent memories had seeded his brain with their corrosive rot. He only hoped they would wither and die before spreading like a gangrenous infection.

She looked at him, a little puzzlement in her expression. He could see questions forming, ones he didn't want to answer. "What will happen to this mage of yours, Lucia?" The question successfully deflected her from asking them.

"I'm not sure, Zev. He's… something of a radical. He might decide to take on the Chantry and fight for mage rights. It's always been a dream of his. I think living with me and Danny domesticated him. Maybe he will go back to the Wardens in Amaranthine. He had friends at the Circle he talked about visiting too. I wish he hadn't just left like that!"

Zevran got up from the divan and strode to the fireplace. The flames were beginning to die down, so he grabbed the poker to tend to it, buying time to think. _She will heal, in time. I can make her forget the mage. _It was a selfish thought, but he acknowledged it and owned it. Yet he could hear her sniffing and the gulping breaths that gave away that she was crying again. There wasn't a whole lot in the world that could melt Zevran's resolve quite like the tears of Lucy or Danny. Either of them crying made him want to assassinate sorrow. When Danny fell, skinning a knuckle, he wanted to remove the cobblestones the boy tripped over. Now Lucia weeping so inconsolably—He was the source of this sorrow, and if he had to set aside his jealousy and possessiveness to eradicate it, then he would do that. The least they could do would be to find this mage and try to work something out.

Of course, not the same arrangement they'd had with Riordan. Something like that could only happen once in a lifetime and only under such circumstances they'd found themselves, facing certain defeat and death. The rules of society get thrown out when you're convinced your life is ending soon. _Ha! Rules of society. As if I cared. _But if that was so, why this possessiveness now?

He stood up from where he squatted in front of the fire and turned to look at Lucy. She smiled at him, but the tears were still rolling down her face.

"We will find this mage of yours, Lucia," he said. "We can discuss whatever needs to be discussed, like the sensible people we are."

Her face lit up and she rubbed away the tears once again. "I don't know if it will make any difference, but all I want to do is talk to him. He didn't even say goodbye."

"Come, let's get a good night's sleep and in the morning we can head out. Iveta will take care of Danny, yes? You fly to Amaranthine and I'll ride to the Circle. We can ask along the way if anyone has seen him," he said.

"I warned him against staying in animal form for too long. I expect he might change back and stay at an inn. Maybe someone has seen him. I can fly to Amaranthine in a day and a bit. Well, more than that if I stop along the way to make inquiries."

"Sounds reasonable, although I am reluctant to be parted from you again. You always seem to find trouble." He smiled at her and wove a hand into her hair, behind her head, and moved his face closer to hers. "Now, amore. You seemed rather interested in kissing a girl. Do you want to?"

"I'd rather kiss you than Daniella," she said, moving so her lips were barely touching his. "I never thought I would again."

Just before they committed to a deep, lingering kiss that awoke memories for them both, his lips curled into a smile. This was his Lucia, exactly as he remembered. He would make this work, for both of them, for little Danny, too. Perhaps this family could help him forget Antiva.

**Fergus**

The guard on duty in the family quarters of Cousland castle dared smile as his teyrn strode down the hall, another example of impertinence. Fergus turned a sharp look on the guard but ignored the slight. Ever since Lucy, the creature masquerading as his sister, switched allegiances to Loghain, he'd been met with cheek like this. Father had had an affinity with the castle staff, but Fergus knew these smiles were simply smirks hiding the contempt even the drudges held for him. But since he'd had a serving man whipped for inappropriately laughing several days ago, there had been precious little smirking.

"No, my lord! I'd never laugh at you, ser. I have always esteemed the Couslands." The servant had pleaded and cowered. "The cook told a funny joke, Your Grace."

Perhaps, but it was time to set an example. A dozen lashes and the laughing, snickering, and sly smiles had stopped, at least amongst the castle staff. The Banns were another story. He could feel their derision as their eyes followed him. How many of them were plotting their own defections?

Oh yes, a few had come to him and dared to speak in hushed tones of Lucy's bold desertion and encouraged him to strike back, but as he watched their faces he wondered what duplicitous intent lay behind that advice. They would love nothing more than to see him crushed under the combined armies of Loghain and Alistair.

Then there were the Banns who acted like nothing had happened. What they could be up to, he could only imagine. At any social gathering with two people talking, the skin on the back of his neck prickled as he felt eyes watching him and tongues wagging. The whole lot of his Banns were conniving wretches. He had begun seriously rebuilding his military force with an eye toward quelling any further insurrection.

So, when one of his Banns, a fawning bootlicker if he ever met one, approached him, he was prepared to dismiss the man.

"Bann Friedewald, good to see you. I am afraid I'm a little short on time…" Fergus said, trying to maneuver his way past the man.

"Your Grace, a pleasure to see you again! I'm surprised to see you here, I must admit. I thought you might be out looking for the apostate mage that your sister seems to have misplaced."

The Bann's words almost flew past Fergus' ears without registering, but then he did remember hearing that his sister was living in Denerim with a former apostate, turned Grey Warden.

Fergus asked warily. "Why should I care?"

"Why indeed?" the Bann asked, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "I did over hear a most interesting conversation and witnessed something that quite startled me. But then again, she is your sister, so I'm sure it isn't news to you." He trailed off thoughtfully.

Fergus knew he was being baited, but his curiosity was also piqued. Already the thought occurred to him that if he could snatch the mage, he would have leverage over her. "Go on."

"I witnessed her walking out of a woods, without a mount, and stop to question a number of people. I interviewed them later to find out what she had been asking, and that is when I learned she was looking for her," he paused dramatically, "paramour, who goes by the name of Anders."

"All right, so she's carrying on with someone. Typical, for her, but hardly earth-shattering news." Fergus crossed his arms and looked sternly at the man. "Is there more?"

"Oh, Your Grace, is there ever! I saw her as she left the village. By this time I was following her. She went into the woods and I trailed after her, careful not to be seen. She turned around, looking to see if anyone could see her, and then," he gestured expansively with his hands, "she ducked behind a tree and disappeared." His eyes narrowed as he mused over the incident. "Witchery, I tell you! I followed her footprints and they just stopped right at the tree."

"Perhaps she saw you and climbed into the tree," Fergus said, already becoming bored by the man.

"No, no, my lord. I checked the tree and not even a lizard could have scrambled up that tree without my noticing it. I'm telling you there was magic at work. Your sister is a mage, did you even know that?"

"There are many things I don't know about my sister, apparently." Of course, Fergus knew the creature residing in his sister's body was a mage. "I trust there's a point to this discussion and you'll find it soon?"

Friedewald spoke low, in conspiratorial tones. "My lord, if your sister is a mage and she's looking for this paramour of hers, perhaps she might be trapped, like a rat sniffing after a piece of cheese. A display like the one I saw, in front of a templar, and no one could object to her arrest and trial. The Chantry looks dimly on forbidden magic and I'm fairly certain whatever she did to disappear from view was most likely forbidden."

The Bann had a point, Fergus had to admit. "I thought you said you didn't see anything."

"People don't just disappear, not without magic!"

"What exactly do you propose then?" Fergus asked. He was beginning to warm to the idea but he kept up the pretense of disinterest.

"My bannorn lies on the outskirts of your territory. She may venture there, especially if she hears rumors leading her in that direction. Leave it me, my lord. I will have her."

Brushing his hand across his five o'clock shadow, Fergus considered the proposal. "Friedewald, if you can pull this off, I'll reward you, of course."

"Of course, my liege. There is something in particular." The Bann trailed off as if he were too shy to ask his boon. Fergus knew better than to imagine that Friedewald was in any way too timid. "The Bann bordering mine is sorely mismanaged. I should think they're behind in paying their taxes. It wouldn't be unreasonable to confiscate some of their lands and put them under the management of someone more…competent."

"I'm sure that's reasonable." At least, Fergus hoped it was. At the moment he couldn't recall whose lands those would be. His seneschal could confirm that later.

Bowing deeply, Bann Friedewald excused himself.

Fergus watched the man's retreating back and allowed himself to imagine, for a few glorious moments, his un-sister being caught, tried, and executed. The left side of his mouth twisted into a sadistic smile while a sharp thrill rolled up his spine. The thought of watching Lucy hang was oddly arousing. He strode to the stables and waited impatiently for the groom to ready his mount. It had been a while since he'd seen the whore Aileen. He wondered if she could still do that thing with her mouth.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **Sorry about the title, but the only other one I could come up with was "Torn between two lovers, feeling like a fool...". Damn, now I have that song stuck in my head._

_Trying to get back into the discipline of writing for a good chunk every night. It takes a while to ramp back up to that level of dedication. I'm getting better about it! It helps not having so much time carved out of my schedule for things like physical therapy. _

_Many thanks to Biff for beta-reading! She's got a great Mass Effect story you should read. Also, major thanks to Zevgirl and Biff for help with this chapter, in particular with Zevran. _

_If all goes well, the next update shouldn't take so long. I've even started it already, but I had to come back and rewrite part of this._

_Thanks to all those who reviewed! Zevgirl, Biff McLaughlin, Shi, Jenna53, Arsinoe de Blassenville, 1Scarylady, xKimathyx, Isala Uthenera, KatDancer2 – You are all awesome!_


	23. Laundry Day at Lady's Well

**Anders**

"Karl is gone, Anders," First Enchanter Irving said, his voice breathy and thin, older than Anders remembered. He sat heavily in the big oak chair behind his desk, groaning and looking uncharacteristically tired. "He went to Kirkwall to help."

"Gone to Kirkwall—to help what?" Anders's exasperation came through loud and clear. He threw up his hands with his frustration. "Are they redecorating? Exactly what was in Kirkwall that they needed him so desperately?"

"They were short on healing specialists," Irving said with a wheezing chuckle, "and quite long on apprentices. They've had terrible luck with enchanters running away or turning into abominations. So their First came here to recruit and Karl decided to go."

Anders fixed Irving with a glare, disbelieving what he was hearing. "Really? Without any sort of coercion, he volunteered to go? Are you certain he wasn't fleeing someone here? Maybe an abusive templar? What about the Knight-Commander Greagoir?"

Sighing heavily, Irving sat back in his chair and regarded Anders carefully. "To the best of my knowledge, it was his idea. I think he truly felt he could help there."

Anders finally sat down, slouching into the visitor's chair. "I just can't believe he would leave without saying goodbye, or writing, or something."

"It's none of my business, Anders, but after your last escape attempt, I think Karl expected to hear you were dead. We all did. Perhaps he decided he just couldn't bear watching his friend throw away his life for yet another attempted escape. Sometimes you just have to move on with your own life."

Anders stared past Irving, his funk deepening. "Kirkwall, though?" He shivered. "The tales that come out of that place." He shook his head sorrowfully. "Maybe I should go after him. I am officially recruiting for the Grey Wardens, so I'm certain I could…"

"No, Anders. Despite the treaties, most of the Knight-Commanders and First Enchanters are very protective of their mages. There's little chance they would let you recruit him.

"But you still haven't told me why you're here? You came all this way just to visit Karl?"

"Well, no," Anders lied. "I came to do some research on," he hesitated momentarily having neglected to think of a really good reason to return, "uh, dragons. We seem to run into them fairly frequently and the Warden-Commander thought it would be a good idea to do some thorough study on the topic. Mind if I stay awhile?"

Giving a wheezy, breathy chuckle, Irving nodded. "Of course, Anders. The library is always open to you. Your old room is even available since Karl is gone. You can have his bed. The loose brick has been repaired."

"Loose brick?" Anders feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not." Irving struggled to get up from the chair.

Even though Anders and Irving had had their disagreements, a sharp pang of grief shot through Anders. Irving wasn't long for this world. He got up and offered his arm to the old man and helped him up. They walked to the First Enchanter's bedroom together, the old man still holding onto his arm as they went down the hall. He made pleasant, but meaningless chatter as they went.

"You'll need to tell me all about your time in the Wardens, Anders," Irving said when they reached his door.

"I will, First Enchanter. I should be here for a spell, so to speak."

"Ha!" Irving laughed, not sounding so wheezy this time. "That joke was old when Andraste was young."

They bid one another goodnight and Anders went back to his old room and began to settle in. It was quick since he didn't have any of his belongings with him, just his staff and the clothes on his back. Oh, and a red ribbon he had once taken from Lucy. He kept it tied around his wrist.

**Zevran**

Galloping across Ferelden was far better than walking across Ferelden, Zevran decided. He remembered making this trek to the Mage's Circle on more than one occasion and it always seemed like an endless distance when you walked. Maybe it was the flatness of the terrain. Farmlands and forest, forest and farmlands, it never changed all that much. Periodically a village broke the monotony.

It would have been far more enjoyable to ride Lucy, she was a splendid mount, but this horse was acceptable. If all went well, he would be at the Circle tower in another two days. If Lucy hadn't found Anders in Amaranthine, she would fly to the tower. Most likely she would get there several days before him. They agreed that she would wait for him there. If she had found Anders then they would have been waiting for him at the Spoiled Princess, the little inn outside of the Circle tower. However, she wasn't there when he arrived.

Arriving at the little village as the sun was going down, he encountered a templar standing guard over a rowboat.

"Good day, Ser Templar," Zevran said. "Is this the official conveyance to the mage tower?"

The templar, a bored expression on his face, looked over Zevran and sniffed disdainfully. An elf looking to get into the tower? That was newsworthy. He was probably one of those Dalish elves, but he didn't have those swirly lines all over his face. So he must be a Dalish elf in disguise! He was probably here to rescue one of those Dalish curators, or no, that wasn't right. Damn his brain! It was getting harder and harder to remember. Dalish custodian? No, not quite right. They were the protectors of the Dalish, the guardians… the gatekeepers? Keeper! That was it.

"Err, sorry. What was your question again? Ah hell, it doesn't matter. The answer is 'No'. No you may not go to the tower and rescue your… uh, keeper of Dalishness."

_Ah, a lyrium-addled templar. What fun. _"Ah, of course. No doubt you see the tattoos on my face and think, because of them, I must be Dalish?" Zevran's facial tattoos had been removed, of course, when he had assumed the role of the mysterious Rivaini, Daniella.

"Wait, what tattoos?" the templar asked. He peered closer at Zevran, looking for any sign of them, perhaps covered by some clever means of concealment. The elf was rather dark-skinned, perhaps he had used a dye to hide them.

Zevran laughed heartily, if falsely. "Exactly! You spotted it right away didn't you? I can see why they trust you with this job. You're a tough man to fool."

The templar puffed out his chest. "You got that right. Knight-Commander Greagoir hand-picked me for this job. He said, 'Carroll, I've got the perfect job for you.' And then he sent me out here to keep watch of the boat and make sure no one rows across the lake without getting permission first."

"Very good," Zevran said. "They clearly picked the right man for the job. Well, now that you've figured out I'm a Dalish elf, I suppose you won't let me cross?"

Carroll squinted at the elf again. He was clearly trying to trick him, that much he knew for certain. Why was he trying to convince him he was Dalish? "You clearly have no tattoos, what are you trying to pull?"

"Ah ha! And because I have no facial tattoos that must mean…" Zevran trailed off meaningfully, waiting for Carroll to provide the conclusion.

"You're not a Dalish elf!"

"You sussed me out. Now that we have that out of the way, will you row me across?"

Carroll squinted at the shorter man, trying to remember what his instructions really had been. "Oh, to the void with it. Row yourself across. Lunch is probably ready at the tavern up the road."

"Very well, good ser. Best get your lunch while it is still hot. I'll just row myself across," Zevran said. He pushed the little boat into the water and deftly jumped in. He wasted no time setting the oars into their locks and rowing. The templar might start rethinking this at any moment and he wanted to be well underway.

Back on shore, Carroll took a pair of steps toward the Spoiled Princess then stopped. He turned around and yelled "Hey! You need to get permission first."

The elf waved at the templar but didn't stop rowing or return.

"Hm," Carroll mused, for the first time in a very long time. "How do they get permission without seeing the Knight-Commander, if he is in the tower?" He resumed walking toward the inn and his lunch. "Maybe it wasn't permission. Maybe it was persimmons? He likes those. Or musicians? Don't let any musicians over? A physician? That might be it. Don't let anyone come over without a physician. That sounds reasonable."

The smell of his lunch cooking drove the last memory of the elf out of his mind and after he'd had a hearty lunch and a lyrium-laced ale he walked back to his post and was surprised to find the boat was gone.

**Lucy**

I stopped a number of times on the way to the Vigil to see if anyone had spotted Anders and no one had. So much time alone with my thoughts, I began to worry. Every time I saw a crow I flew after it and cawed. What if Anders spent too much time in animal form? He might forget he was human.

My heart was breaking with all the unimaginable terrors I could concoct. Even if I did find Anders, what then? How could I let him go after everything we had been through together? In my mind, logically, there was only one solution: the same sort of arrangement we'd had with Riordan. I knew, just knew, that Zev and Anders had both had the same thought, but no one had dared utter it. That it worked once, a perfectly equilateral triangle, where all sides were even and connected, seemed unlikely to ever happen again. How do you even go about suggesting such a thing? _Hey guys, we're all fairly hip, why don't we just crawl in the sack together and see what happens?_ Ugh. That was creepy sounding.

Then there was another part of me that said if we did this, it was the final step to completely replacing Riordan. _No. _I cawed sadly and winged my way on. I would never forget Riordan. How could I when Danny was a living reminder of him. Those moss-green eyes were definitely his. Someday that baby face might develop that rugged chin and those high-cheekbones. _My Danny, when will I ever stop missing you?_

So far I'd stopped at every village on the way to the Vigil and then I had detoured to Amaranthine. I spent several hours asking around after Anders. No one had seen him. So my next stop was the keep itself. Everyone was quite happy to see me, but no one had seen Anders or heard anything. It now seemed more likely that he had gone to the tower, but there were still a few more places I wanted to check.

I bid a hasty farewell to Nathaniel and promised I'd come soon for a longer visit. He looked quite happy and that lifted my spirits a little, but as soon as I was back in the sky, I began to feel sad again.

The road to Highever was my last place to check. I doubted he would dare poke his head into Fergus' territory as he was known as an associate of mine. I couldn't imagine Elissa's brother would resist the urge to keep close tabs on me. It wouldn't surprise me to find out he knew the nature of my relationship with Anders and he would take full advantage if he could.

I skirted the border of Cousland territories and stopped at a village to ask after Anders. Finally, after three days of searching, I was rewarded with a solid clue!

"Aye, m'lady, I saw someone matching that description." A man, mounted on horseback, told me. "He was walking down that road there, toward Lady's Well. It's a dozen miles or so from here. You might ask there." He gave me a friendly smile and tipped his hat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running a mite late." With that he spurred his horse and took off down the road at a good clip.

Finally, I had a lead after all these days of searching. I would need at least two days to fly to the Circle tower, but I had a few more days I could spend before I needed to meet up with Zevran at the tower, or the Spoiled Princess inn. The only thing I didn't like about this was that Lady's Well was in Fergus' territory, if just barely. I was eager to find Anders and get out of here. I had no doubt if Fergus got wind of him being here he'd do something horrible. That thought did little to cheer me up.

How to proceed? Walking was a solid option. I could ask anyone I met if they'd seen a tall, golden-haired stranger recently, one carrying a large staff. In a small village, he was likely to stick out as someone noteworthy. However, this was hostile territory. I should fly, scout for him from the air. When I got closer to the village, I could change and see if my Warden-senses could pick him up. So I feathered-up and took to the air once more.

This was splendid grazing land. It had been largely cleared of trees and vast flocks of sheep were dotted about here and there. Some of the land was fenced off and crops were growing. I flew the dozen miles to Lady's Well and made a couple of circuits around the village looking for somewhere to change form. I finally settled on an area behind some houses where some freshly laundered bedding had been hung to dry. I would have chosen a stand of trees, or otherwise sheltered area further from town, but the landscape just didn't offer any.

I landed on the clothesline and looked around warily. I saw nothing: no housekeeper, no dogs, and no guards. It looked safe enough. I hoped down from my perch and transformed. No sooner had I removed the spell, I felt the air compress around me. It squeezed me, sucking my breath away and flinging me into the bedding hanging from the clothesline. If it hadn't been for the sheets and quilts fastened to the lines, I would've gone flying several feet, if not yards. As it was, I was buoyed by the laundry, which I suddenly noted was quite dry. Even though I was disoriented by the attack, I knew this time what it was: a templar.

"Oh, fuck!" I struggled to gain my feet, which were wrapped in the linens I'd plowed down. Then I could hear the rapid crunching of steel boots striding across gravel, and the metallic ringing of swords being drawn. All this was audible over the booming of my own heartbeat. Mana gathered from my necklace pooled within me as I prepared to Fade step. I threw open the door to the Fade and stepped in, emerging from the Fade closer to the road, but free of the suspiciously dry laundry.

The templars were still facing the hanging laundry, looking for me like a fly caught in a spider's web, but my maneuver put me twenty or so feet behind them. Templars are trained to sense magic and I'd just used an incredible amount of it. They turned, like iron filings to a magnet. I could almost wish they weren't wearing those metal buckets on their heads; their expressions would have been almost worth seeing. But not quite.

I broke my first rule of survival: Don't turn into an animal in front of hostile templars. I needed to get the hell out of there and my best option was to fly. The transformation is quick, but the templars beat me to the draw. My mana was drained and the spell shriveled as I began the transformation.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Running wasn't a bad option after all. There was a fleeting, half-formed thought that if I could get far enough away, out of the range of their spells, I might make it, but a man mounted on a horse was charging down the road toward me. I turned, preparing to run through the fields and pastures. My feet left the road and I flew, covering several yards of grassy pasture, much to my surprise. Just before my body decided to obey gravity, I recognized the feeling of my mana draining away. Thedas was rising up to meet me, welcoming me home from a far too temporary absence. This was going to hurt unless…

I tucked myself into a ball and managed to hit the ground and roll into a summersault. I pushed myself to my feet, my head still spinning from the smiting and the tumbling. I took a few drunken steps in a direction I thought might be increasing the distance between me and them. It didn't matter. The next smite pushed me flat on my face, and the one after that just made the pile of rubble that once was my body, bounce.

Pain. I put my hand on the ground and tried to rise, but agony sang like an angry Wagnerian soprano as I put weight on my wrist. I managed to roll onto my back just in time to see the sun being blotted out by a pair of templars. The sword tip pressed against my belly—yeah, the one they call the Sword of Mercy—told me, in case I hadn't yet gotten the message, that I was well and truly fucked.

"Surrender!" one of the templars shouted.

"Okay," I said, belatedly starting my charm offensive.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__And here everyone was worried about Anders. See! He's totally fine. _

_Thanks so much for the reviews. Thanks much to Wedger, Biff, Zevgirl, Arsinoe, 1Scarylady, a couple of unnamed anons, and KatDancer2! I love reviews and feedback. _

_Thanks to Biff for beta-reading. I always appreciate your comments and eagle-eyes. Thanks to both Biff and Zevgirl for helping me get past things that I'm stuck on._

_To address something left by an anon: Fergus is a bad guy in this work. It is an AU (alternate-universe) thing, so I'm not sticking to canon much at all. I don't know if you recall from the prior Lucy story, but even Elissa Cousland wasn't all that noble a noble either. In reality, I loved Fergus in the game, but in this work he has been pushed beyond his breaking point. You do have to realize that Loghain and Lucy have humiliated him terribly. Given the opportunity to be evil to her, he just can't pass it up. Especially when he has to do so little._

_To Scarylady: The templars love to muck with Wardens, especially Anders. Remember Rylock in DAA and that nasty ambush in Amaranthine? I can just imagine how much Warden mages must irritate them._


	24. Burt and Ernie's Sing-A-Long Adventure

**Lucy**

With a "Sword of Mercy"—yeah, right—pressed against my belly, I meekly surrendered. They hauled me to my feet, using my unbroken wrist, and actually asked me if I were badly hurt. You never know with templars, they could have always said "No? We'll take care of that!" and beaten me to a bloody pulp. But not this pair; they were being, if not solicitous, humane. Templar A took my arm with the swelling wrist and bound it.

"I don't suppose you'd let me just heal that?" I asked.

He snorted, ignoring me, and continued to bind me. Templar B relieved me of my weapons, the ones I had strapped to my back, but I still had my boot dagger. He threw them on the ground and then started to dig through his backpack and swearing under his breath.

"I _know_ I put the strangler in here this morning." He picked up his bag and dumped it out entirely, covering the ground with various oddments that templars collect.

"Strangler?" I said, my throat going dry. "Uh, that seems a bit harsh, don't you think?"

Templar B smirked. "For a maleficar of your stripe? Hardly."

He picked over the pile of junk while I felt beads of sweat pop out on my forehead. Then he picked up a metal torque and I recognized that it was the same metal choker that Harrison had put on me after that whole Wolf incident. It would only keep me from casting magic. I relaxed a little as he clasped it around my neck. Unlike Harrison, however, he locked it.

Feeling strangely off, I closed my eyes and tried to see my imaginary door to the Fade. I saw it, but it seemed closed and far away. There was no white light burning behind the door. How odd that something I always thought was a bit of mental imagery really seemed to function as a psychic gas gauge.

The horseman who had directed me to Lady's Well, and helped cut-off my escape, circled around us, looking very smug. I shot him a glance and decided he wasn't the important one at the moment. My captors were templars and I doubted they answered to smug-looking men, even one with a snazzy goatee.

"Did you check her boots?" the smug man said.

"How absurd!" I spouted, a tad too quickly. "Who keeps weapons in their boots?"

Templar B pointed at my feet. "Take them off."

"Can't," I said, nodding at the templar binding my broken wrist.

"Fine," he replied. He knelt and unfastened my boots, pulling them off one at a time, shaking them. A thin copper wire fell out, as well as a lockpick. He grimaced as he felt how my one boot was unnaturally stiff on one side. Digging around, he found the secret place I kept my boot knife.

"You can go barefoot," he said and he threw my boots to the side of the road.

_My boots! _They were enchanted boots of ass-kicking and even more important, they were broken-in and comfortable. My heart sunk even further. My entire stash of emergency backup tools were gone. Sadly, I didn't have the decorative wire that Zevran gave me, which I might have braided into my hair but I never figured out how to make it stay.

Deciding to venture an exploratory conversation with my captors, Templars A and B, I said, "Gentlemen, I fear this is a rather sizeable mix-up." I sighed and knit my brows with friendly concern. "Understandable, of course, but I am the commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, sometimes called _The Heroine of Ferelden_, fondly I might add, by the King, Queen, and the inestimable Teyrn Loghain. Release me and we can say 'let bygones be bygones' and get on with our day." Finishing my short speech with a warm smile, I waited for their reaction.

"Who you are doesn't concern us, Miss. You're a mage and the Knight-Commander ordered you to be brought in," Templar B said while stuffing back into his bag all the junk he had dumped out.

"Greagoir? You're kidding me! I _know_ Greagoir. I pulled his ass out of the fire, when Ulfric, or whatever his name is, blew up into a giant Pride demon." This time I knew I was saved. They'd take me to the Circle and I'd pull Greagoir aside and calmly remind him he owed me some favors. The man wasn't stupid. I might be a slobbering sloth demon and he'd look the other way so the royals wouldn't harass him. And he was scared to death of Loghain. "Sure, take me to the Circle. The sooner you do it, the sooner I will be walking away free."

"Greagoir?" the templars looked at one another and laughed.

Templar A finished binding my wrist and took out a length of rope and tied my wrists together. "The Knight-Commander who ordered your capture is named Meredith, mage."

"Meredith? Did Greagoir retire? I'm sure I would have heard." I flinched from the pain as he pulled my wrists together and tied them securely.

"I doubt it, mage," Templar B said, "Kirkwall's Chantry is of little interest to Fereldans and I'm sure the reverse is true." He took the length of rope leading from my bound wrists and gave a tug on it. "Keep up and it won't hurt your wrist much."

"Wait!" I suddenly panicked. A moment ago I thought this unpleasant incident would end at the Circle tower on Lake Calenhad, but now—"Isn't Kirkwall in the Free Marches? You have no jurisdiction in Ferelden!" I resisted moving as the templar started to walk and cried out in pain as the templar gave a sharp jerk on the rope. I followed, not wanting to further damage my broken wrist.

_There was a way out. There had to be a way out, there always was._

The goateed man watched me with dancing eyes, his horse walking alongside us. I looked up at him with what I'm sure looked like false bravado. "You're a Fereldan! You're not just going to let them kidnap me are you? Do you even know who I am?"

"Why yes, I do, as a matter of fact," he said. His gloating smile appalled me. "You are Elissa Cousland, the heroine of Ferelden, Warden something-or-other, dear friend of Teyrn Loghain, and the not-so-beloved sister of Fergus Cousland. Oh yes, and you're a dreadful maleficar. The Ferelden Circle didn't want you, so I had to reach out to friends across the Waking Sea. They were keenly interested in you."

I froze. _NO! _My shriek of fear was an internal one. If they took me out of Ferelden, away from the people who were covering for me, protecting me, I was done for. The least I could do was make it hard for them. I sank down, right there in the middle of the road. I sat and refused to go on.

"Stand, mage!" Templar A ordered me while B gave a vicious yank on the rope.

My broken wrist launched into a new chorus of pain, but I refused. If they wanted to take me away from Ferelden, they wouldn't have my cooperation.

"Move damn, you!"

When the kicking and slapping commenced, I noted it could have been a lot worse. They were clearly trying to avoid permanent damage and if they had wanted to kill me, it was easily accomplished. So I held my ground and when they tried to pick me up and physically carry me, I went utterly limp. The one templar alone couldn't carry me and I slid bonelessly out of his arms to the ground.

Templar B crouched on the ground next to me and yanked off his helm. He was close enough that his breath buffeted against my face. "One way or another, mage, this is happening. Resist us all you like. You're going to the _Gallows_ to meet your fate there. Cooperate and this journey doesn't have to be unpleasant."

_The gallows? _So, they intended to hang me in Kirkwall. I closed my eyes and prepared myself for whatever they intended to do. Nothing happened but I heard the scuffling of feet and conversation.

"We need the horse," one of the templars said.

"Make the bitch walk," the mounted man said. "Do your _templar_ thing, and make her walk!"

"Bann Friedewald, just give us the horse. It isn't that far to your estate. I think you can walk a bit. Besides, the agreement was that she isn't harmed."

_Not harmed?_ Why go to all the trouble of not harming me if they just intended to hang me?

The man, Friedewald, grumbled, but dismounted. Then all three lifted me onto the horse, draping me over it like a sack of flour. I tried to squirm off, but then the ropes came out and they tied me up, securing me to the horse.

"You fuckers are _so_ going to die!" I growled, my voice sounding a little demonic, even to my ears. "Once they find out what you've done, the Grey Wardens are going to fucking resurrect the griffons from the dead and fly en masse to Kirkwall. The Antivan Crows will take out contracts on every last one of you. The mages will rise up. Teyrn Loghain will personally invade your miserable little country, rip off your heads and shit down your…"

I was cut off mid-sentence by a rag being stuffed into my mouth and then bound in place.

"Mmmmph! Mmmmph!" My diatribe continued a while longer, though no one but me knew the dire contents of my warning.

It was only a journey of a few miles and then I was unloaded and carried into a fine estate, the Bann's I presumed. He must be one of Fergus's toadies. Sadly I didn't get to see the guest accommodations. They took me to a subterranean dungeon. It was dank, cold, and very dark. Three sides of the cell were stone walls, but the front of the cell was all bars, including the door. They dumped me in one corner, on a moldering bed. Across the cell a slop bucket sat reeking in one corner.

As soon as the templars withdrew from the cell, I threw myself at the bars and shouted imprecations after them. There wasn't much point. I might have irritated them, but it wasn't having much effect other than that.

I finally gave into the fear and gloom. Despite everything I'd threatened the templars with, I had no idea how I was going to get free of this mess. It would be another day or two until Zevran got to the tower and found I wasn't there. How long I would be here, I didn't know.

_The bed or the floor? _I tried to decide which was the least dirty and finally settled on the bed. It stunk and I felt things crawling in it, but the floor wasn't much better. There was nothing I could do. _Nothing. _

"Take care of my baby," I whispered. "Zevran, Anders, Loghain—All you who love him as I do—please watch over him." I sniffed and my eyes filled with tears. "Danny, my love, wait for me in the French Laundry. I think I might be with you soon. Order some appetizers and a strong drink with an umbrella in it. Maker knows I'm going to need it."

That prayer spoken into the air dissolved the last of my resolution to stay strong. I buried my head into my hands and cried.

**Anders**

"You've got a visitor, Anders." The big, plate-clad hulk of a templar stepped aside and he saw the man's bulk had obscured a smaller man. He stared at the elf for a moment, his brain seizing up with the feeling that he knew this blond elf.

_A feminine hand tracing a pair of graceful swirls across a tanned check… A pair of heavy-lidded eyes, half shut, and a kiss. _Lucy's memories. They bubbled up from time to time.

"Ah, Anders, amico! I am glad to see you're all right," the elf said.

His voice only made Anders's head swim even more until it finally seized on an idea. "Daniella? I mean, Zevran?" He held his hand out, even though he still felt disoriented.

The elf chuckled and seized his hand in a hearty shake. "What do you think? Am I better as a blond or did you like those black tresses?"

Anders returned the chuckle, his sense of déjà vu turning into wonder at the transformation. "I confessed to Lucy that I found Daniella an attractive woman."

"Or 'hot', as she would say?" Zevran said.

The mage laughed again. "Yeah, she would say that." It seemed a little weird to be discussing Lucy with someone else who knew her so well. But 'hot' was also a term he would apply to the fair-haired elf in front of him. His shoulder-length blond hair was held back in a ponytail with a leather lace. There was a honed sharpness to his features that almost bordered on feminine, but held plenty of masculinity. It was plain to see how the glamour had worked with his underlying features. His physique, while compact and lithe, was definitely not feminine. Anders understood Lucy's attraction to the physical elements of the assassin.

"Speaking of the Warden, where is she? Visiting with Irving? Tormenting Greagoir?"

Anders's brows drew together in puzzlement. "She's here?"

Eyes growing wider, Zevran said, "She's not?"

The assassin's face didn't give away much, but Anders could sense his worry. "Wait. Why are you here? If Lucy isn't here and is supposed to be, where is she? What is going on?"

"To answer your first question, the reason I am here is simple. Lucy was beside herself with grief over losing you and wants you to come back. We split up in order to find you. She flew to Amaranthine, stopping to ask after you along the way. She intended to search for a day or two up north and then fly to the tower. She should have been here before I arrived. That she is not…"

"Andraste's flaming tits!" Anders swore. "She could be anywhere. That's a whole hell of a lot of territory to cover."

Zevran angrily slapped an open hand against a table and slumped into a chair. "Where do we even start? Retrace her steps from Denerim? Go to Amaranthine? Vigil's Keep? Who would kidnap her?"

Anders sat on his bed, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin in his hands. She wanted him back? Why was the assassin assisting her in this search? Was Zevran prepared to stand aside for him? Would she let him? The questions chased around in his head, but they were all for naught if Lucy had disappeared.

"Lucy has a lot of enemies. There was a conspiracy to kill her in Amaranthine. We thought we got them all, but you never know."

"What about Fergus Cousland?" Zevran asked.

"Ah, yes, funny you should ask. I would put him at the top of the list. She and Loghain did make something of a fool out of him."

"Brasca! Amaranthine is right next door to Fergus' territory. Perhaps we should pay a late-night visit to the teyrn?"

Shaking his head, Anders sat up straight. "That may be a dead-end too. I have a better idea. I can ask Lucy where she is."

Zevran cocked his eyebrow, looking at Anders like he had just said something ridiculous. "How do you propose to do that when we don't even know where she is?"

"There is one place I know she goes to," he said, smiling grimly. "The Fade. I've had some experience tracking her down in that place. All I have to do is find her in a dream and ask her. Well, sort of." Getting her to focus on the problem and communicate meaningfully in a dream might be a challenge.

Zevran's look of incredulity faded to admiration. "Really? That is marvelous! Is this because you two were in the same body?"

"Um, not exactly, it was before that. Long story." Anders really didn't want to admit to the assassin that he had spied on her in her sleep. "Suffice to say, I've had some experience navigating dreamscapes. If we can time it right, so I'm in a lyrium trance while she is asleep and dreaming, I can find her."

Leaping to his feet, Zevran snapped his fingers. "Brilliant! Then you'll just ask her where she is and we'll chase her down."

"Well," Anders rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable discussing his former snooping, "I don't know what your dreams are like, but they can be chaotic. Getting straight answers out of someone in a dream can be iffy. It might take a few tries."

"We can't waste time. We know she went north and is probably to the east, I can't imagine she would have gone far into her… Elissa's brother's territory. We should at least start traveling in that direction." Zevran stopped pacing a moment and stared at Anders, sizing him up for a moment. "You will come?"

"Maker's ass, man, of course I will. I, uh, well… this is my fault. I shouldn't have left like that. It just seemed like it would be easiest if I did. I know what you mean to her." He rubbed the back of his neck again. It was feeling hot and prickly.

"Don't underestimate how she feels about you, ser mage. The tears filling my décolletage that night weren't all tears of joy."

"Hm," Anders mused over the admission and wondered how exactly the elf felt about his lady's divided loyalties. Then he remembered the elf was a well-trained assassin and felt even more uncomfortable about the topic. "We should leave right away." By immersing himself in action, he wouldn't have to deal with this uncomfortable subject.

"Do you know any forms other than bird? If not, perhaps we should acquire a horse for you."

"Uh, no. I just learned how to turn into a bird a short time ago. I can fly along behind you," Anders said.

"No. It is no trouble. We will acquire another horse. Until we find a stable we'll just have to ride double." Zevran fixed him with that surveying gaze again, as if he were able to evaluate someone's equitation by looking at them. "Do you ride?"

There was something in that gaze that made him squirm and that question was almost a double entendre. "I do well enough." The small quirk at the corner of Zevran's lips said his instinct about the question was not entirely wrong.

"We shall see about that." The assassin looked around the mage's room. "Let's pack your things and go, yes?"

"I'm traveling light," Anders said. He picked up his staff. "I'm ready. We just need to stop at the quartermaster and buy as much lyrium as we can. Hunting her down in her dreams requires quite a lot."

Zevran gave a decisive nod. "Let's go."

The two men jogged down the stairs and the templar at the door let them pass without a challenge, but Anders had caught the flinty look in Zevran's eye. The smaller man exuded danger, overlaid with a veneer of charm and refinement. The interesting part was how he turned it off and on as needed. It was another trait he could imagine Lucy would find fascinating. Yes, very interesting indeed.

**Zevran**

It took some convincing, but eventually the mage got up on the horse behind Zevran. Anders had an awkward few moments where he didn't know where to place his hands. That moment was dispensed with as Zevran urged the horse into a trot, then a canter and Anders's arm wrapped around Zevran's waist until he regained his balance.

"Do not worry, Anders. I've been groped by men far less handsome than you," he said, chuckling.

They rode for several hours, alternating getting off the horse and walking when the horse started to tire of carrying them both. That evening they stopped at a fair-sized village and took a pair of rooms at an inn. Anders napped before dinner while Zevran scouted around, looking for horses they might acquire. Three or four horses would be ideal; they would trade off when one became fatigued and double the distance they could go in a day.

He found some suitable horses owned by the Bann of the area and went back to the inn to have dinner with Anders.

"So, this thing you do," Zevran said. "How do you walk into someone's dreams? I can imagine this is a useful skill. Perhaps you could kill someone in their dream and they would wake up dead, yes? Far less mess."

Chuckling, Anders raised his glass of wine and took a small sip. He would need to be sober if he wanted to walk through the Fade looking for Lucy. "You don't die if you dream you die. Trust me, I've had it happen. Yes, it is a useful skill. However, it is difficult to find someone unless you know them very well."

_And he knows Lucy well. _"Is this something I can assist you with? Perhaps two of us could reach her more easily?" The thought of being frozen out of this and having to depend on this other man to find Lucia—it made him feel helpless. Even worse, he recognized he was feeling jealousy.

"Sorry, Zevran. The only way I know of getting to the Fade is through a lyrium trance and I don't believe non-mages are capable of that. It is something we prepare for through our entire apprenticeship."

The two men ate their dinner and shared inconsequential stories. Neither of them talked much about their time with Lucy, as if such a thing would reveal something dangerous the other man might take offense at. There was one possibility that neither of them had broached. What if she were dead?

"Are you so certain you can find her?" Zevran asked again.

"I believe so. Of course, if she's not asleep, then I can't or if she's in the Fade but not dreaming—"

"Dead?" Zevran asked.

The other man didn't answer, but stared into his wine and swilled it in the glass. His expression had gone flat, the good-natured smile faded. It was obvious this hadn't been far from the mage's thoughts.

"I never really felt free," Anders finally said. "Not until the day we woke up together for the first time. At that moment I realized I didn't have to hide who or what I was, or who I loved. I was exactly where I wanted to be. For the first time since I was a kid, I wanted to stay. Maybe it was a new sort of shackle, but it was one of my own choosing." He broke off and swigged down the rest of the wine.

Nodding, Zevran took a big quaff of his ale. "I didn't fight my way out of the Crows, plotting and scheming a mass slaughter of assassins, just to lose her. Not to Fergus Cousland, not to darkspawn, not to the Chantry." He looked up, his smile gone and his eyes turned to flint again. "Not to you, either, Anders. No offense, but after we get her back, I will continue to fight for her."

The mage's hooded eyes met his. "Are you threatening me?"

"No threat here, amico. I wouldn't hurt someone she loves, but I won't stand aside."

"So, it's up to me?"

Shrugging, spreading his hands palms up, Zevran shook his head disapprovingly. "Perhaps you don't love her as much as you think if you are so willing to give her up." He put his drink down and rose from the table. "I'll wake you early. We can get started before the sun comes up."

_~o~o~o~_

"Wake up, amico. It's time to find some horses," Zevran shook the mage's shoulder as he lay in bed, on his back, breathing deeply and regularly.

Anders's eyes opened as he came out of the lyrium trance. He could only just barely see Zevran in the dim light. It was one or two hours yet before dawn. "I wasn't asleep, actually." He sat up in bed, his head whirling a little from an entire night spent in a deep lyrium trance.

"Did you find her?" Zevran asked.

"No." Getting out of bed, Anders put his boots on, straightened his undershirt, and put on the coat he wore over it all.

"What does that mean?" Zevran put out a hand and turned the mage to face him.

"Either she didn't sleep much, or—" Anders didn't complete the sentence.

"Brasca!" Zevran pounded his hand against a wall, his frustration bubbling beyond his control. "Might she be dead?"

It was the first time Anders had seen the assassin truly lose his cool. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth out the snarls. "I thought you weren't one to give up so easy, Antiva." He couldn't help throwing the words back at the elf. The nickname came to him in a flash.

The tension and anger left Zevran as quickly as it came. "Antiva," he murmured. "Not bad. Listen, we've got to get those horses. Four nice ones."

"Why so early? Surely they're not going to want to sell them before the sun even comes up."

"Who said anything about buying them?"

_~o~o~o~_

"I've got money. We can just buy them." _Stealing horses?_ Maker, what was the elf going to lead him into next? He had no doubt if they were caught he'd be bundled back to the tower in no time.

"I don't think the Bann would sell these, not to an elf and a mage. Besides, these horses are _nice_. He'd have to be insane to sell them. So, why bother? Now, shush. I'll have this lock off in a minute."

Anders waited, holding his tongue, peering into the dark looking for anyone who might catch them. The _minute _Zevran promised extended into two, then five.

"Are you sure you can open this lock?" Anders whispered.

"Of course."

Another two minutes went by and then there was finally a click as the lock popped open. "You see? A simple padlock can't stop a Crow."

"I take it most of your victims don't use locks?" Anders whispered.

The blonde elf turned to look at him, but it was too dark to see whatever expression he was sporting.

The two men padded quietly into the stable while the horses roused from their rest snorting and stamping at the smell of two unknown humans.

"Shush, my beauty," Zevran said. He slid his hands over the dark, glistening form of one horse.

Surprisingly the horse quieted down, nickered softly, and nuzzled against Zevran's head. Anders was surprised to see how facile the elf was around the horses and how much they seemed to like him.

Each horse eagerly extended his, or her, neck out to sniff and nuzzle Zevran. One tried to eat his hair. He didn't even bother to gather their lead lines, he just walked out of the stable and they followed him.

Anders stood in amazement, watching the elf masterfully handle these big and—in his opinion—dumb creatures.

"Get the tack, Anders," he said quietly.

Anders went into the stable, looking for things like halters, bridles, bits, blankets, those other thingies, and… uh, oh yes, saddles. He found everything he remembered from his earlier experiences with horses. He made two trips, carrying out a pile of equipment with each one. Zevran had already started saddling one horse when he finished.

"Can you get your own horse ready?" Zevran asked.

It was embarrassing, but Anders was beginning to feel second-class next to the accomplished assassin. _Mr. Perfect_, he grumbled to himself. _Fights the whole damn Crow organization and wins. He's got perfect hair, a sexy accent, women love him and apparently horses too. _"Yeah, I got it."

Anders worked on readying his horse, watching Zevran, and trying to remember what he had learned in Amaranthine when Lucy had insisted they all learn to ride. He fumbled at it, putting things on and taking them off, uncertain how hard to pull the cinch on the saddle, a little hesitant to jamming his hand into the horse's mouth for the bit, and getting more nervous by the minute, especially when his horse kept craning his head toward Zevran and nickering like a love sick mongoose. _Do mongooses nicker? Wait, is it mongooses or mongeese ? _

Zevran looked over at the mage struggling with the equipment. He kept it to himself, but he was impressed. The man had spent most of his life locked in a tower and he was doing a credible job of tacking-up the horse. All right, so the saddle was askew and he was trying to talk the horse into opening its mouth, but all in all it was a decent effort.

"Hey, Twitchfinger," Zevran whispered. "Take this horse. I will finish yours. Fasten the rope from the spare horse to your saddle."

"Twitchfinger?" Anders couldn't help but chuckle at the name. "Fair enough, Antiva. I don't have your skill with horses. Or locks, for that matter."

Another dig at his lock-picking abilities. Bad enough that Lucia was always teasing him about that, the mage-usurper didn't need to. "My dear mage, you may comment on my abilities only when you exceed them."

Tying off the knot linking the spare horse to the saddled one, he smiled at the reply. "Opening doors is an easy matter. A large fireball can simply blow it apart."

"And panic the horses? Truly a brilliant strategy."

"They seem to love you well enough. I'm confident your presence would have calmed them."

"I think you're jealous, Twitch. It is true, horses love me." He patted the specimen he had just finished. "Now, hold onto this fellow and I'll close up the stable."

Anders, still holding onto one horse, gathered the reins of the other. As he did so he came close to Zevran and an herbal scent assaulted his nostrils. "What's the smell ?"

Cocking his head, Zevran shrugged. "Smell?" He walked over to the stables and shut the doors, snapping the lock closed once again.

"I know that smell from alchemy class. Are you wearing perfume?"

"Me? No." Zevran came back, took the reins of his horse and deftly mounted.

The scent once again wafted past Anders's nose and it suddenly came to him. "Horse mint! You smell of horse mint!" He spoke more loudly than he had intended, gloating with his epiphany. Unexpectedly, there were voices and footsteps running toward the stable from the estate.

"Braska, mage, you've woken them. Flee!" Zevran spurred his horse, glad to have a distraction from his rival learning his secret.

"Sweet Andrate's cunny!" Anders tried to mount, but in his anxiety he put too much effort into the maneuver and slid off the other side. He tried again and by now his horse was dancing with nervousness. This time he managed to stick his landing and took off after the elf who was slowing down, waiting for him to catch up.

The sun was just beginning to rise as Anders caught up to Zevran.

"Ah, you made it," the elf flashed a smile at him. "You have the makings of a horseman, Twitch. Your seat is good but needs some improvement."

The double-entendre wasn't lost on Anders. "Horse mint, you cheat! That's your secret isn't it? It's like catnip for horses."

"Tsk, tsk, that would be cheating." He leaned over his horse's neck and lovingly scratched his neck. "Tell this boorish mage that I would never stoop to cheating, my beauty."

They heard the beating of hooves off in the distance behind them and both the men spurred their horses into a gallop.

"Cheater!" Anders yelled, clinging to his horse.

"Horse thief!" Zevran shouted back.

**Lucy**

That first night I couldn't sleep at all. Toward morning my weariness overtook my anxiety and I finally drifted off into a light sleep. I was awoken abruptly as a hand clapped over my mouth. My eyes opened to see the smug-looking Bann Friedewald. He held a dagger close to my face.

"Make a sound, my dear, and I'm afraid I will have to kill you," he whispered. "Now, let's see what all the fuss is about the Grey Wardens. You can just slide right out of those trousers."

No coherent thought went through my head except that this man probably thought I was helpless without my magic. I mentally thanked Zevran for nagging me to practice the last few weeks. Perhaps I was battered and had a broken wrist, but I had a whole arm left, two elbows, knees and a pair of feet.

"One doesn't just slide out of these, Bann. There are ties, clasps, and belts that need to be undone. So unless you have some other idea, you'll either have to undo all those fastenings yourself or let me stand up." There was a little waver to my voice as I spoke. It was adrenaline, but I hoped he thought it was my fear of him.

_Why is he whispering?_ _He's the Bann here, if he wants to rape someone in his dungeon, who is going to stop him, the templars?_ They seemed to be interested in keeping me unharmed, but would that extend to this sort of harm? And were they even close enough to do anything about it?

"Then get up slowly and take them off. I warn you—"

"Yeah, I get it. You'll cut me if I try anything," I said, raising my voice just a little to see how he would react.

"Quiet!" he hissed.

He backed off a little, giving me room to stand, his blade still close enough to easily flick at me and carve me up pretty good.

Strange how your mind reacts in such circumstances. Mine remembered the book Dune and how Jessica Atreides used her voice and Bene Gesserit training to outwit some guards. All right, maybe I don't have _The Voice_ but, let's face it, men can believe crazy things about their own sex appeal. It was worth a try.

I reached down to unfasten my leggings at the ankles, bending one leg at the knee a little, jutting out my booty and sending a sultry look to the Bann. "It has been a little lonely down here," I said.

"So, it is true what they say about the Grey Wardens. The lot of you are insatiable?"

Shifting my weight to make my hips rock, I slowly worked at the bottom of the other leg. I turned a little so my behind was fully displayed. "Utterly."

After that, I started to work on my pants, glancing up to see that the Bann was absorbed in watching me undress myself. I wriggled and made the task of taking down my leather leggings as difficult as possible, with an awful lot of gyrating. As I finally got them down, leaving my smalls still on, I looked at the Bann and smiled. I was happy to see that he looked somewhat enthralled with my performance. When I did my last bend to step out of my legging, I picked them up in both hands.

The smile on my face as I turned to look at him this time wasn't a sexy one, it was feral. I stretched the leggings taut between my hands and snapped them around the wrist and hand holding the knife. Then I kneed him in the crotch as he tried to untangle himself from my pants. When he tried to roll into a ball to protect his junk, I pinned him against the back wall of my cell, bending his wrist against the flex of the joint until he could no longer hold onto the dagger and it clattered to the floor.

He yelled loudly when I rammed his nuts again with my knee, and it gave me the time I needed. I dove for the dagger and in another moment I had sliced a long red seam down the side of his face while he screamed bloody murder.

"You forgot the other part of the legend of the Grey Wardens. We're fast, ferocious, unnaturally strong and we fight to the death," I hissed. "We also fight dirty, fuck-face." I drew back my hand, preparing to bury the dagger in his chest, forgetting about his value as a hostage, just as a thunderation of boots came from the staircase.

A templar led the pack, but there were a handful of guards in the crowd that charged at my cell.

"Drop the dagger!" someone yelled.

"Kill her!"

"No. Stop!" the templar shouted.

"No further or the Bann gets it!" I shouted over the noise. It did shut them up.

"Drop the dagger, Elissa," the templar said. He held his arms out to the side and edged forward, showing he was unarmed. "No one is going to hurt you as long as we're here, girl. It's obvious you were just protecting yourself."

"All right," I said, trying to buy some time to reason this out. If the templar wanted to, he could just smite the shit out of me. That would put me out of commission long enough to gut me, but he was talking to me. "Get the guards out of here."

He hesitated a moment, but finally turned to the guards and spoke to them in low tones. While he was doing this the other templar came downstairs.

"Elissa, if you kill him, we can't guarantee your safety. You need to let him go," the newly arrived templar said.

I laughed bitterly. "You're guaranteeing my safety? That's a laugh. Why? You're just taking me to Kirkwall to be hung."

The guards filtered slowly back up the stairs, apparently reassured by whatever the templar had told them.

"To be hung?" the templar said. "No one said that. That isn't why you're going to Kirkwall."

"You said you were taking me to the gallows!" I growled, and wrapped my arm tighter around the Bann's neck, the dagger poised over his jugular vein.

The templar let out a short laugh. "I see. No, the Gallows is not what you think. It's the Circle in Kirkwall. That's all. It just has a peculiar past and the name to go along with it. Our orders were explicit that we retrieve you unharmed. It is obvious that the Bann was violating the agreement we made. If you let him go, there will be no repercussions. Ernest and I will personally stand guard down here so nothing like this happens again."

_Think. Think. Think! _What should I do? No, first thing: what _can _I do? I can try to use the Bann to leverage myself out of the cell. But why would they allow it? If I killed the Bann, I figured my chances were nil.

"All right," I said, pushing the terrified looking Bann toward the door. He was still bleeding from the souvenir I had carved down the side of his face. He looked too frightened to move at first, but I booted him in the ass with a foot and got him moving.

"Good girl," the templar not named Ernest said.

They halted the terrified Bann to take his keys, but then he pushed past them and ran up the stairs.

"Push the dagger under the door, Elissa," Ernest said.

The fight had gone out of me. I knelt and slid it under the door. Now we would see whether or not the templars were just talking shit, or if they meant what they said. They approached my cell and simply closed the door, locking it.

"All right, Burton," Ernest said to the other templar. "I'll take first watch. Go get some sleep."

The other templar, Burton apparently, nodded and climbed the stairs. I watched him go and stared at Ernest.

"Put on your pants," he said.

I picked them up off the filthy floor and stepped into them as Ernest turned away, keenly interested in looking elsewhere. There was a long gash across the front of them and they gaped open, revealing my smalls and a bit of the top of my thigh. _Great. My armor is ruined now too._

"Is this an improvement?" I asked and he turned to look at me standing in my risqué leather armor

"Maker, no," he said, looking away again. "I will get you something else to wear."

He went up the stairs leaving me on my own. I sat down despondently on the squalid bed and awaited his return.

When he returned, he handed me a very utilitarian dress, pushing it between the bars. It was something a scullery maid might wear. I removed my cuirass while I watched him curiously.

"Have some decency!" he said, turning his back on me as I stripped off my armor and put the dress on.

For some reason I was enjoying this. Maybe enjoy was the wrong word. I felt a mean-spirited bit of entertainment at the templar's discomfiture seeing my body exposed. It reminded me a little of Alistair back when we'd first met. Maybe there was some kernel of decency in the man I could appeal to. Perhaps he was lonely. A kind gesture or a bit of encouragement might move him to compassion.

"Why, Ernest?" I asked. "Why is all this happening? Why am I going to Kirkwall? Why don't you just kill me if I'm such an awful maleficar?"

"Ferelden has shirked its duty, and the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall knew she had to step in. Ser Alrik spoke long and convincingly about the necessity of acting if other Circles do not. In the end, she agreed. You will be tested and, if you pass, you can join the Circle. Your prowess has not gone unnoticed and you will be treated with courtesy if you cooperate."

I stared at the templar, pressing my face against the cold bars of iron, still trying to puzzle it all out. Was it because of my status in Ferelden that they were being almost… nice? "Because I'm the Hero of Ferelden?"

"I can't say, really. I'm just operating under orders. When we get to Kirkwall, I'm sure you'll learn more."

"Right. Lovely. Well, thanks, Ernie." I went back to my disgusting bed and laid down. My mind was still racing. Why was I being kidnapped? I suspected my so-called brother, Fergus, was behind it. Still, what did the Kirkwall Circle gain from it? Maybe Fergus paid them to have me removed. I was too hard to kill, but he knew templars were my weak spot. Perhaps what he told them about me had piqued their interest. Maybe Kirkwall would ransom me back to Ferelden. It was possible I was a political pawn in some chess game I had no idea was going on between Ferelden and Kirkwall.

My mind spun for hours and I didn't sleep until the sun started to rise and a bit of light illuminated my charming surroundings. As I finally started to fall asleep, I thought someone was having a big joke at my expense, especially since I realized my templar captors were named Burt and Ernie.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Please review, I always love hearing from folks. This is the final adventure in the story. The idea was a little unexpected, but I decided to go with it and ride out where my muse was taking me. I'm hoping to capture some of the seriousness of other chapters but lightened with some humor. I do hope you're enjoying this last hurrah. Please let me know!_

_My thanks to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading, and for letting me use her idea of ripping off heads a pooping down necks. That sounds like a threat one might plausibly make on Loghain's behalf. _

_My thanks to Biff, Zevgirl and KatDancer2 for their reviews. I always love the feedback. Oh yes, I can attest that all three of these folks have great stories to read._

5


	25. Mage on the Rocks

"Wake up, girl. Your food is here."

Gummy eyes creaked open as I watched Burt open my cell door and leave a tray of food. I moaned in pain from my aching wrist. Today all the bruises were finally hurting. My left arm was swollen from elbow to broken wrist, both legs and arms were mottled with livid bruises, and I felt like a bronto had stepped on my back. Worse yet, I hadn't eaten since early the prior day and my Warden metabolism was demanding fuel.

As plain as it was, the food beckoned me. Porridge, bread, cream, and even a pot of tea awaited me. I groaned again as I got up, picked up the tray and took it back to bed, ready to devour the far too small breakfast. My stomach growled loudly as I picked up the spoon and dug it into the bowl of cooked grains.

I stopped.

After what I had done to the Bann the night before, I'd be an idiot to eat food he had provided. If it were poisoned in retribution for slicing his face, I couldn't even attempt to heal the damage myself. I'd die puking and shitting in this miserable cell in his dungeon. Fergus and Bann Smugface would be laughing themselves silly. No thank you.

Sorrowfully, I picked up the tray and left it at the door to the cell.

"What's wrong?" Burt asked. "Why aren't you eating?"

"It's probably poisoned."

Burt looked at me and scratched the scruff growing on his chin. "Why do you say that?"

"After what I did to the Bann last night, humiliating him in front of his guards, giving him a very hard to explain slash down the side of his face—If my food isn't poisoned, I would be _very _surprised."

"Hm." That was all the templar said. He opened the cell door and took the food, locking me back inside. "We're not leaving until tomorrow. You need to eat something."

"I can go without." My stomach roared in protest, but I lay down on the bed and tried to ignore it. Eventually I fell asleep.

Later on my cell door creaked open again and Ernie came in an armful of carrots and large heads of cabbage. Dirt was still clinging to them. "I harvested them myself. Eat."

It was such a tiny gesture of goodwill and yet it almost made me cry. _Oh great, Stockholm syndrome already? _I nodded and took them, not bothering to brush off the dirt, and I devoured carrot after carrot. Then I began unwrapping the cabbage leaves and stuffing them into my mouth.

"Thmnks," I said trying to talk around the stiff cabbage leaf in my mouth. It filled the belly, but it wouldn't last long.

"Maker," Ernie said in awe of how quickly I could dispatch his armload of vegetables.

"It's a Warden thing. You wouldn't believe our food budget. My appetite will bankrupt Kirkwall and they will free me just so they don't go broke."

Ernie smiled at me even as he disabused me of my notion. "Don't count on it." He watched me devour a few more cabbage leaves. "We're going to leave in a few hours instead of tomorrow. We will go up to the port city there and stay at an inn. You're right. It is too dangerous for you to stay here. There's just one thing more we need to wait for."

I was too busy chewing cabbage to ask, but he could see the questioning tilt of my head.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said it gruffly. Any hint of pleasantness was erased. He got up and left me to finish the head of cabbage, not looking at me again.

With my belly full of vegetable fiber, and a good bit of dirt, at least it had ceased roaring. Relatively speaking, I felt better, so I lay down yet again and took another cat nap.

_~o~o~o~_

My next awakening was to the sound of boots clumping down the stairs. The afternoon light was filtering through a dusty window, but I could see the day was getting late.

"Leave us."

That voice knifed my gut. So this was the reason we needed to stay.

"My lord—," I heard Ernie start to protest.

"I said leave us. Or you can go back to your order empty-handed."

There was a pause and then I heard footsteps receding.

_Oh shit._

I rose to face my brother but stayed near my bed.

Fergus turned the corner, standing within a few feet of my cell. He said nothing but looked at me while a small smile broke unevenly over his face. I met his gaze, conscious of how awful I must look in my dirty dress, bruises all over my arms, with a broken wrist. Perhaps I still had crumbs of dirt on my face from my meal. I swiped at my mouth, but then realized that with how dirty my hands were, I'd most likely just left a trail of dirt on my chin.

"This look suits you, Lucy," he finally said, his eyes dancing with merriment.

What could I say? I could threaten him with all kinds of things, but we both knew it was looking dim for me. I just didn't have the heart for false bravado at the moment.

"I'm sure you're going to love life at the Circle, my dear. They have unusual ways of dealing with mages, especially maleficars. But don't worry, sweet sister. I've been assured the rest of your days will be filled with tranquility."

_Tranquility? Oh, of course. Funny, I'd been thinking I was headed to a death sentence but instead they were going to make me like Owain? _My gut clenched again. I couldn't be sure if it was reacting to the large bolus of fiber heading down the chowder chute or Fergus's words, but I suspected the latter.

"You'll pay for this, Fergus!" I growled, not even caring that my words sounded stolen from a 1960's B-movie script. "Loghain will— "

"What?" he cut me off. "Loghain won't have any idea of where you are. No one will. Granted, I don't like leaving loose ends, but long before anyone finds you—if they ever do—you'll be wholly accepting of your circumstances." He grinned, fully gloating now. "And quite content with them, I might add. I think mother and father would be proud we found a peaceful way to settle our differences."

"I am _not_ your sister," I roared, lunging for the bars of my cell.

My anger just made him smile harder. His shit-eating grin had reached the corners of his eyes and he looked as if he were about to laugh. I didn't think I could stand that. His shit-eating grin looked like it was missing something critical_. _Not even thinking about what I was doing I seized the slop bucket, not minding the smell for once, and dashed it through the bars at him. He tried to back up but my aim was good and one of his arms was coated in filth from my very own alimentary canal. I hoped like hell he caught the darkspawn taint from it and turned into a ghoul, although I'd never heard of that happening.

My hasty plan worked. His face coiled with rage and the shit-eating grin was gone. He unsheathed his sword and lunged at me through the bars, but I was already out of his reach.

"Do you want to try it, Fergus? Get the guards to unlock the cell and let's see if you can kill an unarmed woman. I warn you, Ser Landry failed." I maneuvered so my bed was in front of me, ready to use it, or the bedding, to defend myself. "Bann Toady failed. Did he show you the wee mark I left when he tried to rape me at knife point?" I gestured widely with my arms and made a mocking bow. "So, by all means, dearest not-brother, try it."

I saw him considering it. His jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together and his nostrils flared while my slops dripped down his arm, but I also saw doubt in his eyes. Apparently even he had heard stories about me, like the ones Nathaniel had. I might not have my magic, but the wildest tales about me were about my fighting prowess. Even a ridiculously exaggerated version of my duel with Ser Landry had become an urban legend, vastly inflated above the reality. For once, I celebrated Leliana's over-the-top story-telling and ballad singing.

The fight went out of Fergus and he dropped his sword arm to his side. "No, Lucy. I prefer to think of you with your mind and will burnt away, an empty receptacle, unable to protest whatever degradations the templars might wish to subject you to. And yes, I hear that lot up in Kirkwall are particularly perverse."

He turned around and began to stride to the stairs, but stopped halfway there and pivoted to face me once more. "Do write." He laughed with vicious glee as he walked up the stairs. I was certain if he'd had a mustache he would have been twirling it.

_~o~o~o~_

"I don't think I can bend my legs," Anders complained after a full day, and then some, of riding. "Nope. My thighs are locked, and the only way I will get out of this saddle is to fall out of it and walk away in a squat."

"And here I thought you were this powerful healer. At least Lucy is laboring under that impression. Can't you twitch your fingers and heal your muscles," Zevran said as he deftly jumped out of the saddle. But as he hit the ground a fierce cramp that ran thigh to back began. "Cazzo!" He fell backwards into the dusty road, squeezing his cramping thigh and rocking with pain. "Mage, a little help here would be most appreciated," he cried.

"Wait a sec," Anders said. He reached around the back of his saddle, ignoring the cramping starting in his own back, and grabbed his staff. He first healed himself and then slid off the saddle with far less pain, although not completely restored, and went to see the Antivan rocking back and forth in the dirt, holding his thigh and swearing like a pirate.

Deep blue light came from Anders's staff and wrapped Zevran in a cocoon of relief. He sighed and gently tested his legs by trying to rise. When there was no further pain, he stood. "It would seem my Lucia is right about you. You are a talented healer." He dusted off his leather armor as he waited for the mage to heal himself. Anders looked half dead. He had barely slept the night before, spending the entire time in a lyrium trance, and he intended to do it again tonight.

"You need to sleep, my friend. I can stand watch. I will wake you a few hours before morning. That is when Lucia may be sleeping the best, no?"

It was true that sleepers are most deeply asleep in the hours just before daybreak. If she were in trouble, she might be having difficulty sleeping but during those hours it is hardest to resist sleep. "I can go another day or so without sleeping. I know a spell to keep me going," Anders said.

"Then just as we both need to be at our most alert, you cannot stay awake? No, trust me. This is better. I will catch a few hours after dawn."

Anders reached out and clasped Zevran's arm. "Thanks, Antiva. I will keep us both rejuvenated tomorrow."

Zevran set up the tent while Anders gathered some wood for a fire. Later, pouring over a map while eating, they debated which course to take.

"We should cut east," Zevran said, tracing his finger across the map. "This highway takes us through West Hill and across the southern edge of Cousland territory."

Yawning, Anders nodded sleepily. "Yes, I've traveled the North Road a few times. We can always cut into Highever if we need to have a chat with the Teyrn."

"Tsk, tsk. You look so tired, my dear mage. It's all this constant riding. I think I know what you need."

Anders looked up from where he was drowsing over the map. Zevran's tone was downright… seductive. "Oh?"

"Sleep, amico. Close your eyes and dream of a dozen desire demons, prancing about like they do, dressed in nothing but gold medallions hiding their nipples and a wisp of fabric concealing their charms."

Anders chuckled sleepily. "And a sudden wind-storm whips up? No thanks. I've seen enough desire demons to last a lifetime. I'd take a few hours of dreamless sleep though." He got up from the log he had shared with the elf. "Night, Antiva."

"Night, Twitch."

_~o~o~o~_

True to his word, Zevran woke Anders several hours before dawn. He had even found a lyrium potion and handed it to him.

"Find her, Twitch." He clasped the mage's shoulder for a moment.

"I will do my best." He quaffed the potion and shuddered momentarily as the power surged through him. "If she was awake all night last night, then it is unlikely she is again tonight."

Nodding, Zevran gave his shoulder a final squeeze and left the tent.

Anders lay back down on his bedroll and fought off the desire to go back to sleep, instead going into a deep and boneless lyrium trance.

_~o~o~o~_

_This time the gold thread unspooled and didn't flap directionlessly like it did last time. This must mean she was in the Fade, he just had to find her and make contact. Once again he strode through the Fade ignoring various demons who sought to tempt him into a bargain. _

"_Warden Anders," a very familiar voice caught his attention. _

"_Justice?" He turned around, searching for the Fade spirit and then he finally saw glimmering bright light that was roughly man-shaped. "Well, fancy running into you here! How's it going?"_

_He couldn't really tell, but he thought the spirit grimaced. "Oh, about the same. In fact, incredibly the same. Nothing every really changes here. No seasons, no cycle of life and death. I'm finding it rather tedious after having spent time in your world."_

"_Really?" Anders answered, but was distracted by the thread he was following and the urgency of finding Lucy. "That's terrible."_

"_Enough of my problems," Justice said, heaving a sigh. "What brings you to the Fade?"_

"_I'm looking for Lucy. She's in trouble, we think. She didn't show up when expected which, well, you know how that usually goes for her."_

"_A perfect example! The Warden-Commander is a locus of chaotic change. We just don't get that here." Justice looked terribly depressed._

"_Uh, well, keep in touch, Justice! I'd better go find her. I need to figure out where she is." He hurried on after the golden thread and ignored the miserable sigh coming from the spirit. _

_Finally the thread ended on the border of a dreamscape. Vague images flittered by. A desert scene unfolded and a horse wandered by, but that was replaced by something more substantial. A scene of a towering cliff and a woman in a red dress climbing… no, being hauled up the cliff on the back of a giant. _

"_Lucy!" Anders shouted from the base of the cliff. It was useless, they were too far up. He grasped the rope and began to climb. As he reached the top a swordsman helped him the rest of the way._

"_My name is Inigo Montoya," the swordsman introduced himself. _

"_Yes, of course. Now, if you'll excuse me." He rushed past the swordsman and down the path in time to hear Lucy say, "My Westley will come for me!"_

"_Lucy!" he shouted after her, but she disappeared, pulled out of view by a short man._

_Suddenly a disembodied voice broke through the chaotic dream. "Who kills Prince Humperdinck?"_

_An answer floated past him, spoken in the rough tones of an aged man. "Nobody. Nobody kills him. He lives."_

"_Who is Prince Humperdinck?" Anders thought. "Did he kidnap Lucy? I have to catch up to her." He ran even faster, but he only caught tantalizing glimpses of her red dress and then she would disappear again._

_The dream began to change, at last. He slowed his steps, realizing he wouldn't catch her by running after her. There was a rocking motion, creaking sounds, and the taste of salt burned on the tip of his tongue. He saw her behind the wheel of a ship, dressed in a ragged, dirty dress and a rope… no, a noose hanging around her neck._

"_Lucy!" he said, relief flooding through him. Remembering the wise words of Luprous Grayson, he cast a healing spell at her. She immediately saw him._

"_Anders!" She left the helm and it began to turn wildly and a storm whipped up. They were sailing directly into dark rocks illuminated only by lightning._

"_Lucy," Ander said. He gripped her shoulders with his hands and made her look into his face. "You must tell me where you are!"_

"_I'm at sea," she yelled, trying to be heard above the storm that had just started. _

"_Yes, I can see that, sweetheart. Where are you going?" He dug his fingers into her shoulders, trying to get her to focus._

"_I'm scared Anders. They're going to hang me."_

_Her dark eyes were huge with terror against her pale skin. The rain was drenching her and she clung to him._

"_Shush, Lucy. Zevran and I are coming for you. You just need to tell us where you are. Please… concentrate."_

"_The Gallows, Anders. They're going to hang me. No wait… that's not right. The Gallows, but for something else. Something that would make mom and dad happy." She began to sob and clutched him hard. "I don't want to be tranquil."_

"_Tranquil? Do templars have you? Where are they taking you?" He smoothed his hand down her wet hair, letting her cry into his neck. "Lucy, you have to tell me. Where are they taking you?"_

"_I told you! The Gallows."_

_Suddenly it hit him. The Gallows was the name of the Mage Circle in Kirkwall. "Maker's balls, Lucy! Are they taking you out of Ferelden?"_

"_Yes!" She nodded, let go of his neck, and tried to smile but her mouth kept twitching downwards._

"_Kirkwall? The Gallows in Kirkwall?" he asked, scarcely daring to believe it. _

"_Yes! Yes!" she cried. "Don't let them make me like Owain."_

"_Oh sweet Maker, I won't, Lucy. I promise. Zevran and I are coming. Just… be good. Try to go along with them. Don't give them any reason to do it."_

_She shook her head. "It's too late. I've pissed off pretty much everyone, except maybe the muppets." She turned, saw the ship was about to strike the rocks, and screamed. _

_The scene in the Fade dissolved and the golden thread fluttered to the ground. Lucy had left the Fade. _

_~o~o~o~_

Sitting up all night, watching and waiting, Zevran had more than enough time to think about what was important in life. Pleasure in the here and now was what he had told Lucy when he had flirted with her during the Blight, but that had changed. Now it was far more specific than a bowl of fish chowder, a couple of prostitutes, and a corrupt politician. Lucia and Danny had ignited something fundamentally deeper and longer lasting than pleasure: satisfaction. Even this, chasing after her, finding himself willing to cross Thedas for her, had a grim sort of pleasure in it. Cutting down anyone who stood in his way, yes, that would be pleasurable as well.

Now was there a bridge too far to cross? And was Anders that bridge? The man was handsome, undeniably. He was intelligent, unquestionably. If he had never met Lucy, he might have made a play for the mage. What had changed that made him reluctant to share Lucy? Perhaps when it had all begun he had been a different man. He had admired her, and desired her, as well as Riordan. But when the Blight ended and Riordan was gone, they'd both suffered a great loss and it had knit them closer together. They had propped one another up, making it through that time together.

All right, but time changes everything and now there was another man. _This is a problem how?_ He chuckled to himself, amused by how much he had changed. Now, however, that man was off looking for Lucy, chasing her to a place he couldn't follow.

_One problem at a time, Zevran. _He peeked into the tent and watched Anders as he lay motionless in his lyrium trance. Wandering back out to the fire, he sighed at how helpless he felt.

_~o~o~o~_

"Lucy!"

Anders's hoarse cry fractured the night. Crickets stopped their shrill creakings, night birds hushed their haunting calls, only the pop and sizzle of the camp fire remained. Zevran dove into the tent at top speed and grasped the mage by his shoulders. "Did you did you find her, amico?"

The mage looked disoriented, worry twisted his brow. "They're taking her to Kirkwall." He coughed, his mouth dry and ashy tasting from the lyrium. "The Gallows."

"Cazzo! They're going to hang her?"

Anders sat up slowly, still dizzy from the trance. "No, The Gallows is the Circle in Kirkwall."

"An ill-omened name. What do they mean to do to her? Who did this?"

"She thinks they're going to make her tranquil."

The string of Antivan that came from Zevran's mouth was unmistakably foul, if incomprehensible to Anders. The words seared like curses that would pox centuries of templars and Chantry busybodies. "Where are they now?"

"At sea. If I were to guess, it is a stormy voyage, although perhaps the storm was more a reflection of her inner state."

"There is no way we can get there before her?" Zevran asked.

"I doubt it. Let's look at your map. We have to cut north, find a ship, and hope for good winds. I don't see how we can possibly do it."

"If you flew?"

"I don't know if I could fly that far. I don't have that much experience with shape-changing yet. I'm not certain I could stop them, even if I caught up. Not with templars."

The two men crawled out of the tent. Anders grabbed the map and took it with him.

"We're here, aren't we?" He jabbed his finger at a point West Hill.

"Yes."

"If we went to Denerim we could enlist Loghain's and Alistair's help. We could take ship from there. An armed force could demand her release. If they refused, it would cause a diplomatic incident, perhaps even war," Anders said.

"Four days riding top speed, minimum." Zevran began to pace. The need to act was like an itch he had to scratch. "But one day, maybe less, from here to Highever. Two days, we could make Amaranthine."

"Yeah, Highever could be tricky for us. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure Teyrn Fergus knows who I am," Anders said.

"Yes, I met the man myself. I think I threatened his life." He scowled at the memory of the Teyrn threatening Lucy. "He may remember that," Zevran admitted.

"But Kirkwall is just a day or two away on a ship. Dammit!" Anders stabbed his finger at Kirkwall. "It's so close!"

"All right. We're both known to Fergus, but how likely are we to be caught? Not so likely. However, if we take ship from there we can't get word to Denerim—at least, not reliably. A courier might decide to inform the Teyrn before carrying a message."

"Then we have to take the extra day and go on to Amaranthine," Anders said. "The extra day could do us in, but if we need support from Loghain, it might end up being worth it."

"That will make the trip by ship longer too. It adds at least another day. Cazzo! We can't spend that much time."

Anders nodded. "You're right. Let's head for Highever and take the first ship we can. I know someone at the Circle in Kirkwall. Maybe he can help us."

Nodding, Zevran clasped the mage on his shoulder. "Good work finding her, Twitch. Can you ride again?"

Anders gave a cocky half smile. The assassin might be Mr. Perfect, but he didn't have magical healing spells and rejuvenation. "I've got enough magic in me to keep our asses perky all the way to Seheron. We don't need to sleep until we're on that ship, but I warn you the crash will be bad."

"Don't bother me with trifles. Let's go!"

_~o~o~o~_

Tied-up, gagged, burlap sack over the head, being carried over the shoulder of a muppet—Burt probably, I could smell onion-breath—my day was getting off to a very good start.

I'd woken in the night with a gasp. I'd just dreamed that the ship had crashed onto rocks. Such a realistic dream. I'd been talking to Anders—_Anders_! We spoke in my sleep. He asked me where I was, I remember that. Did I tell him? Was he dream-walking? _Think, think, think!_

I could have slapped my head with my hand, but it was bound to my side. Of course Anders would try to contact me. By now they were figuring out something had happened. I remembered that book Anders had: _Navigating the Fade_. It was very likely that I truly did speak to him last night. I could only hope I said something sensible.

Oh crap. I don't think I did. I remembered dreaming that I was Princess Buttercup being kidnapped by the minions of Prince Humperdinck. Was Anders the man in black? What had he told me? I mused over the dream, trying to ignore how incredibly uncomfortable it was to be slung over a man's shoulder, especially when he was wearing plate mail armor.

I couldn't remember much, just his soothing presence in the moments before the dream ship crashed into the rocks. Then it came to me, as dreams do, surging up out of the subconscious: "_Don't give them any reason to do it." _Those were his words of advice the moment before my dream shattered on those rocks.

I knew what that meant. He was telling me to cooperate with them and not give them a good reason to make me tranquil. I had been fairly cooperative with the muppets, especially after they defused that situation with the bann. Ernie had explained that they were ordered to haul me in like this, hinting that there were a lot of Fereldans in Kirkwall. I suspected that they were worried some of them would recognize me.

Well, regardless, I stopped squirming and steeled myself to be as cooperative as possible. If they did _tranquilize_ me, so to speak, I'd be extremely cooperative anyway, right? Perhaps I could simply be really nice and agreeable and they would find me too charming to lobotomize. _One can always hope, well, as long as you haven't been… _I sighed and let that thought go unfinished.

Finally the bouncing came to an end and I was unloaded into a chair.

The sack was pulled off and I was looking into a pair of very blue eyes that were disturbingly close to my face. A bald-pated man was leaning on the arms of my chair, his strange blue eyes staring into mine. He had an ample, if droopy, mustache and beard, gray as steel. He sported a rather upgraded version of the usual templar armor. _The Muppet-Commander?_

"So this is the Hero of Ferelden?" he said. "I admit, I was curious." He straightened and walked around my chair.

I couldn't answer, due to the gag still in my mouth, but I felt his fingers untying it. It dropped off into my lap. "Thanks," I said. Keeping Anders's advice in mind, I reminded myself to stay calm and, above all, be polite.

Burt and Ernie were standing at parade rest, across the room. Ernie's eyes looked concerned. It wasn't like Ernie and I were best friends, but he did seem to have a little regard for me. Burt, not so much. I think he saw me as a promotion or fat raise.

"She's just a girl," the older man said. "I can't imagine she is truly worthy of all the fuss. But we were paid well to handle this problem for the Fereldans. How can we deny help to our southern neighbors? Well, no matter. If they can't handle their apostates and maleficars, we can."

He reached out a hand and smoothed down my hair, his eyes showing curiosity, kindness even. The man had such a calm, gentle way about him. It was as if he could deliver the details of your upcoming dismemberment in a very placid manner. It was creepy.

"Ser," I began to say. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I am…"

"I am Ser Otto Alrik, Lieutenant to Knight-Commander Meredith. I know who you are, Elissa Cousland, or that is who you claim to be. But your brother says you've already been claimed by a demon who prefers to be called "Lucy". Am I correct?" he asked.

"Well, no ser. My brother's wits were addled by a serious head wound taken when he was lost at Ostagar." The lie sprang to my lips smoothly. _Thank you, brain._

"Hm, that may be. I suppose we shall have to determine that.

"If you are Elissa Cousland, then you've been a mage your entire life and have managed to escape detection. The proper arrangement is, of course, placing you in an appropriately supervised Circle and having you undergo a Harrowing. However, most hedge mages fail that test since they've never been properly instructed in how to enter into a Fade trance. In truth, that does seem somewhat unfair and I've been working on a different sort of test, which holds far more promise."

He crouched before me so his eyes were level with mine. Taking my hand he peered intently at me as if he could _see _the truth of who and what I was.

"I think there's more to you than meet the eyes, my dear. It would be a pity to leap to an assumption before I come to know you and what you represent. You certainly don't look like a demon, but whether your demon is just biding time, waiting for your control to break, must be determined.

"And, personally, I find the stories of your exploits intriguing. Can you truly move so fast the human eye cannot follow you? Are you a shape-changer?"

I shook my head and looked at him sorrowfully. "My reputation is enhanced by talented story-tellers, Ser Alrik. I am a good fighter, true, my strength and stamina enhanced by Warden tech—err, secrets. My magic is purely second rate, only as good as it is due to the tutelage of a few mages from the Ferelden Circle during the Blight."

"Hm," he murmured. "You do speak fairly, like an educated noble, but the scope of your power, and your ability to control it, that is what I shall determine in good order."

He stood up and gave me one last kindly, creepy smile. Turning to the muppets, he dismissed them. "Oh, one more thing, do send Knight-Captain Cullen in," he instructed them.

_Cullen! _My heart gave a happy bounce. Then I remembered how I had last seen Cullen. He was a traumatized, mage-hating templar who would have enjoyed spitting and barbequing every last one of us.

_~o~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__This chapter was brought to you by the letter M and the number 4._

_Thank you, Biff McLaughlin, for beta-reading on your day off. You rock! Thanks to Zevgirl and Biff for their help on G+ and being my sounding board for ideas. _

_Huzzah for the reviewers! FloridaMagpie, Jenna53, Wedger, Zevgirl, rubberleg, Biff McLaughlin, 1ScaryLady, Lady of Embers, KatDancer2, melgonzo. I love hearing from readers. Please take a moment to drop a review, if you can._

_Nearly forgot! Credit to Biff for the idea of throwing the slops at Fergus. I loved her idea and used it!_


	26. Mad as a Box of Frogs

The woman dressed head to toe in black, her face obscured by a black mourning veil, was escorted by a dapper-looking blond man with a sumptuous pale mustache. The wealthy looking pair purchased passage on a cargo ship to Kirkwall. She clung to the blond man as if so overcome by grief she could barely walk.

"Please, come right this way," the captain said, impressed by the fare he'd collected from the grieving parents. "The stateroom shall be yours. I apologize that it isn't bigger. We don't usually take passengers." He ushered them into the room he normally used. "If you'd like me to have your luggage loaded…"

The be-veiled woman broke out wailing and buried her face in her husband's chest.

"Please, good captain, we had to leave in a hurry. Our son clings to life. There was no time to pack. We can buy what we need when we arrive. I only pray that we arrive in Kirkwall before the Maker takes him," the blond man patted his wife solicitously. "All we need is some privacy in the stateroom. Do not even bother bringing us food. We shall fast and pray the entire way."

"Very good, Ser. Please, if you need anything, let us know." The captain showed them the room and left them to their grieving. His heart ached for the couple. The poor woman had to be practically dragged, she was so overwrought.

_~o~o~o~_

"Zevran, wake up!" Anders lightly slapped Zevran's cheek through the veil. When he had burrowed his face into Anders's chest with the last weeping fit, he simply couldn't remain awake any longer.

"Andraste's tits! You're heavier than you look." He dragged the elf to the narrow bed and let him down on it. The elf nearly slid off the bed, so deep was his sleep, but Anders picked up his legs and maneuvered them onto the bed.

The last rejuvenation had worn off the assassin first and Anders could feel it fading from himself. The piper would soon be paid. He didn't bother stripping any clothes off himself or Zevran, it wouldn't do for someone to come into the stateroom and find out the woman in black was a man. As for himself—he released a jaw-cracking yawn and climbed over the Antivan. His fancy black trousers, stolen by the light-fingered Antivan, were binding his crotch, but he couldn't be bothered to adjust them. His eyes almost fell shut with an audible thud as the last of the rejuvenation spell wore off.

~o~o~o~

"Warden Cousland?"

Cullen stared at me, puzzlement written on his face, as he was shown into the room. My mouth was unbound, but my legs were still tied.

"Hi, Cullen. I hear it is Knight-Captain Cullen now. Congratulations on the promotion." I was continuing my campaign of politeness and charm, with Anders's warning still ringing in my ears.

He looked at Ser Alrik. "I don't understand, Ser. Why is Warden Elissa here?"

"Actually, I got a promotion too. I'm the Warden-Commander." I said it meekly, as if embarrassed, but in truth I wanted to remind the templars I wasn't just a mage girl dressed in rags. I was a Grey Warden, and not just any Grey Warden. I was the Warden _fucking_ Commander of all Ferelden!

"She's with the Wardens. She _is_ the Hero of Ferelden, Ser. Surely she doesn't belong here," Cullen said.

"So, it is confirmed then that this is the woman who saved the Ferelden Circle?"

"Well, yes. Of course," Cullen replied. "I don't understand why she's here. She is no mage."

"Why don't you tell him, my dear," Ser Alrik said, giving me the task of outing myself to Cullen.

The jig was up, at least in Kirkwall. The muppets had seen me transform from crow to human and Fade walk. "I am a mage, Cullen, but Wynne herself trained me during the Blight."

"Maker's breath. No one in Ferelden knows, do they?" Cullen took a step away from me, as if I had just confessed to harboring the black plague.

"Lots of people know, actually: the king and queen, Loghain, all the Grey Wardens. We don't talk about it much."

"You were my hero," he said, backing away even further, the disbelief written plainly on his face. "The Grey Wardens were my heroes. Yet all this time they've been harboring—I don't even know what you are!"

"That is all, Knight-Captain. I wanted confirmation of her identity. Thank you. You may go," Ser Alrik said. He held open the door for Cullen and closed it after he left. When he turned to me a sweet smile was on his face.

"Well, it seems you've passed the first test. You are who you say you are, or at least Cullen thinks you are." He chuckled. "Poor lad. You've really taken a tumble off your pedestal, I dare say."

"As he said, I am a Grey Warden, and Grey Wardens—"

He cut me off short. "Treaty, blah, blah, blah. Yes, I know. However, there are some things we simply cannot overlook. You're far too blatantly—"

"Magical?" I asked. "That's it, isn't it? I'm out there, a shining example of what a mage can be and do. People look up to me. They respect me as they respect the Grey Wardens. If they knew I was a mage, I would be a walking, talking example of why mages should be given equal rights and why mage segregation should end. That's it, isn't it?"

_Oh, for fuck's sake! _Why had this epiphany launched itself out of my mouth? I was supposed to be nice and pliable, not righteous, and certainly not right.

"Oh dear, it seems you've gotten yourself rattled. Calm yourself, Elissa. I'd hate to see you taken over by a demon." He tsked and shook his head. "And here we'd gotten off to such a good start. I'm afraid we'll just have to give priority to your testing and see if you are fit to join the community here."

I clamped my mouth shut against all the tirades that were queuing up behind my teeth, but I'm sure my expression probably gave away the nature of my thoughts.

"Oh, you are struggling, aren't you? Don't worry, my dear. I will have you taken to a place where you can collect your thoughts. Soon we will commence your testing. I'm quite excited about this, you see. It is truly an honor."

He smiled pleasantly at me, his eyes shining with excitement, and left the room. I could hear him giving orders outside and directly after a pair of templars, not the muppets, untied my legs and escorted me to a room. The only people I saw on the way were more templars.

_~o~o~o~_

I cautiously unwrapped my broken wrist while I waited for my tub to fill. Seriously, if this was the templar's idea of a prison room, I couldn't find much to complain about: hot and cold running water, a nicely stocked bookshelf, a wardrobe full of clean clothes, a comfortable bed, even a chamber pot with a lid.

My first act was to take a bath and drown all the lice. Then a second bath to remove the dirt the first bath had missed. After that I braided my hair, got dressed in a mage robe—not really my style, but it was clean—and lay down on the bed. My unwrapped wrist hurt, but I refused to rewrap it in the dirty bandages. It also looked like it might be healing improperly. In all my time doing incredibly dangerous things and getting horribly wounded I'd had the best magical healing one could wish for. I was almost made of Teflon; damage simply didn't stick around that long with healers like Wynne and Anders around.

_Anders. _Now that I wasn't struggling to stay alive, I could finally think of Anders, Zevran, and my sweet baby. What if I never saw any of them again? The tears started coming and before long I had buried my face into my pillow and was noisily bawling my heart out.

"Shush now. Things will get better."

I nearly leapt out of my skin with panic. I rolled to my side and looked up with stark terror at—a scrawny-looking elf-mage. He looked about as terrifying as basket of herbs. "Oh! You startled me." I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed. He handed me a clean handkerchief and I cleaned up my face and blew my nose.

"Sorry. I thought you must've heard me come in," the elf said. "My name is Orsino. I'm the First Enchanter of this Circle." He extended his hand and waited for me to take it.

_Oh no, here we go again._ There was that thing that happened when mages, specifically ones trained in healing, touched me. They knew I was _wrong _somehow. I cowered away from him and tried to look too terrified to touch him.

"It's all right, child. I'm not here to hurt you. I simply wanted to welcome you to the Circle, answer any questions you might have, and—oh, your wrist looks quite painful. I can take care of that." He reached for my wrist and I scrambled away.

"It's okay, it isn't that bad," I said, my words coming out in a rush.

He cocked his head, furrowing his brows, and frowned. "My dear, I don't know what stories you might have heard, but we're not monsters here. That wrist of yours is clearly broken and it wasn't set right. If it isn't attended to, you'll lose the use of that wrist and perhaps your hand."

"Um, look, I'd like you to heal it, but can we talk for a few minutes first? There is probably a thing or two you should know about me."

"Oh?" The First Enchanter looked puzzled and a little concerned, but he drew up a chair and sat near the bed. "Well, why don't we start with who you are? The templars didn't seem to know."

I took a deep breath and hoped that Orsino was a reasonable man, not given to hysteria. "Most people know me as Elissa Cousland, daughter of an important Ferelden lord."

Orsino caught his breath. "The Hero of Ferelden? No wonder the templars weren't talking. What are you doing here?"

"I will get to that in time. First you must know something else about me. I'm really a woman named Lucy Woodbridge, from another planet, maybe another universe. Who knows? I was summoned to this world at the start of the Blight by a powerful mage named Flemeth. Heard of her?"

If Orsino was shocked before, now he was gawping in disbelief. "Flemeth? Of course. She's a legend. Nothing more. Your story is—"

"Incredible? Yes, I know. But Flemeth is, _was_, very real. My companions and I killed her so she wouldn't possess her daughter who was one of the Blight companions. She brought me here, she said, to fight the Blight. She somehow saw that Elissa Cousland didn't have what it would take and I did. There was some sort of magic done and we changed bodies—and realities."

Leaping to his feet, Orsino began to pace. His look of incredulity was replaced by excitement. "If this is true, think of the ramifications it could have for magical research! We've been so restricted to summoning elements, healing, and such, when we could be opening communications to other worlds and other people!" He sat back down, but he positively vibrated with excitement. "Do you know how to work this magic?"

I shook my head. "No clue. Flemeth said it was the hardest thing she's ever done. But this wasn't why I told you this story, First Enchanter." I peered at him intently, willing him to see my sincerity and honesty. "I'm not a demon. I wanted to make that very clear right from the start. I'm different, though." I held out hand. "You might be able to tell when you touch me. That's why I didn't want you to."

He slowly reached out both his hands and took mine in his. "By the Maker, something is very strange." He closed his eyes and I could feel his magic searching my body. "You're a human, but something is off—like a musical instrument tuned to a different scale."

He let go of my hand and looked at me with something like wonder. "You are no demon, that is true. Needless to say, if the templars get wind of this they will render you tranquil in a heartbeat."

I nodded and my lips twitched downward, I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes. "Will you tell them?"

He slowly shook his head. "No. You're definitely a freak, but a fascinating one."

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you."

He gestured at my broken wrist and took it in his hands. "That isn't to say they won't do it anyway. Few mages who weren't trained in the Circle can pass the harrowing." He frowned and inspected my wrist. "This is healing wrong. I'm going to have to re-break it. Do you want to be asleep for it?"

I shook my head. I was tough. I could take it.

"It's your call."

He stood up and moved the chair to the desk and had me sit down with my wrist on the table. He grabbed a heavy book from the shelves. He positioned my arm and hand. "Don't move it and shut your eyes."

I did as he ordered and then I felt the heavy tome smash into my wrist, breaking it once again where it had barely begun to heal.

"Fuck!" I hissed, managing not to scream at the pain.

"Sorry. You don't have to be so stoic, you know?" The healing spell wrapped my wrist in soothing comfort while he spoke. "So, you haven't told me why you're here. You're a Grey Warden, aren't you?"

I sank back into the chair, relaxing from the healing. "Yes. I'm the Warden-Commander in Ferelden. Your templars were apparently paid to kidnap me and bring me here. Elissa's brother was behind it. He totally hates me. He found out I'm not Elissa and has been trying to screw with me ever since."

"Kidnapping a respectable Ferelden, a Grey Warden to boot? I sometimes wonder what our templars are up to. Does anyone know you're here?"

I shrugged, unwilling to reveal anything about dream walking. "They know I'm missing. That's all. Can you get word out?"

He frowned and patted my hand. "I might be able to help, but my influence is limited. For now, just do what the templars want." He looked curiously at the torque I was still wearing. "Why haven't they removed your strangler?"

"I think they're afraid I might escape," I said.

"Escape?" He looked puzzled. I could sense another flood of questions coming, but the door opened and a templar stepped in.

"Visiting time is over, First Enchanter. Is her wrist better?" the templar asked.

I held up my wrist and twisted my hand to display how well it worked. "Perfect."

"I will speak with you again soon, my lady," Orsino said. He picked up my hand attached to the newly healed wrist and kissed it gallantly. "Until then, be well." Under his breath he added, "And be careful."

I nodded at Orsino and watched him go. For once, a tiny spark of hope ignited in my heart.

_~o~o~o~_

Meals came. They got bigger as I complained incessantly about how sparse they were. "The taint needs to be fed," I said whenever a templar set foot in my room. I did lose weight at first and they could see I was getting pretty gaunt. Then the meals got bigger and more plentiful and my face started to fill in again.

I read to pass the time. I also worked out, performing katas, jumping jacks, push-ups, and all the moves Zevran had taught me. At night I dreamed of Zevran, Anders, my baby boy, sometimes Loghain and Alistair, everyone I missed so dreadfully and then I woke with a damp pillow.

Finally, a few days after my visit from Orsino, one of the muppets came to visit.

"I wanted to see how you're doing," Ernie said. He shifted uncomfortably and I could see something gleaming in his fist. "They're going to test you soon."

"So, uh, what sort of a test?" _Multiple choice? Essay questions?_

"Well, there's a sort of cage. One that keeps the magic inside." He looked very nervous talking about it.

"Why?" I asked.

"I shouldn't really even be talking about it. Look, I wanted to give you this." He held out his fist and I saw my lyrium necklace.

"My necklace!" I looked up at him, grateful for it. Perhaps it was a foolish thought, but if anything could help me escape, it was that.

"Burton was going to sell it, but I stole it from him. It seemed like maybe it was lucky for you. I hope it is." He took my hand in his and let the necklace slide into mine.

I looked up at Ernie, my eyes burning again. I tried to speak, but my voice caught. I cleared my throat and said, "Thanks, Ernie." I was about to put it on myself, but something told me that with a little encouragement the muppet could be an ally. "Would you fasten it for me?"

He nodded mutely and took the necklace back from me, opening the clasp. I held up my hair while he carefully arranged it around my neck and then fastened it. His hands dropped away slowly and when I turned around I saw a lot of conflicting emotions on his face.

"Thank you." I spoke softly and held his eyes with my own.

"Yeah. Well, I'd better go," he said. He turned away from me and walked slowly to the door. "It will be all right. Be careful of Ser Alrik, Elissa."

He was gone and the door was locked once again.

_A cage?_

_~o~o~o~_

Tailwinds pushed the cargo ship across the Waking Sea to Kirkwall in good time. Barely had a full day and night passed when the foreboding cliffs of that city were sighted. The captain, not really wish to disturb the grieving parents, nonetheless thought it wise to alert them to their approach. He knocked at the door and, when there was no response, he pounded on it.

"Ser! Madam! We will be landing within the hour. Please make ready!"

He left after pounding again and getting no response. Well, if the couple were not up and about by the time they landed, he would unlock the door and go in himself.

The pounding did manage to pierce Anders's sleep. He stirred, his arm wrapping around his bedmate's waist and pulled her closer. "Umm, Lucy," he murmured sleepily. Awakening had brought a sensuous gift to his loins. "You want to?" Still half asleep, he fumbled under the covers looking for the hem of her nightgown.

Lucy tossed restlessly in her sleep and slid closer to him, pressing against his aching loins with her firm ass.

"Come here, baby. Anders has a present for you, sweetheart." He leaned over and, with eyes still mostly closed, and blurred by sleep, kissed her temple. His hand traveled down her body, pressing against the nightgown, trying to find the swell of her hips, and the warm, welcoming cleft between her legs, but she was wearing a frustrating number of clothes.

She stirred restlessly under his probing hand and then turned toward him. Her lips met his in a soft, tender kiss. Anders's eyes finally opened fully and he saw amber eyes and tanned skin before him.

"Don't stop, Twitch. I was having the most delicious dream," Zevran said sleepily, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

"Maker!" Anders sat up in bed, his head pounding with a headache from sleeping for so long. "I forgot—I mean, yeah, I was having a dream too. Sorry."

"No need to apologize, or stop for that matter." The elf's sensuous, half-lidded eyes seemed to confirm that he really wouldn't have minded for the moment to continue.

"Uh, I think we're coming into port. We'd better get ready. You don't look much like a grieving woman at the moment." He looked at the rise in Zevran's mused skirts and realized he had a matching one.

"Ah, such a shame, but now at least I truly have something to grieve for." Zevran rose from the bed, giving Anders one last look laden with shades of meaning, then he was all business.

_~o~o~o~_

The next day Ser Alrik came. "Are you ready to begin your testing, my dear?"

I shrugged. "Perhaps if I knew more about it I could tell you."

"You must defeat some enemies that we send against you. The goal is to challenge your abilities and see if it breaks your control."

That sounded easy. I'd been killing some pretty horrible things for a couple of years now. "That's it?"

"Yes. Are you nervous?" he asked.

"I guess you still don't believe I am who I say I am." I shrugged. "Let's get it over with." Unless they were going to send a couple of armor plated ogres at me—and where would they find those?—I doubted I would be all that challenged.

Ser Alrik wore a faint smile and I followed him out my door while a pair of templars followed. I felt like the meat in a templar sandwich, which is nothing like an Antivan milk sandwich. _Trust me_. We came to a stairway that went down many floors, but we didn't stop until we reached the bottom and that lead to a hallway that looked like it had been hewn out of stone. The hallway meandered, had many branches, and seemed to go on forever. Finally we emerged into a large cavern. I stepped out into the cavern and saw a giant domed cage made of what looked like iron beams and heavy metal cables, crisscrossed like chicken wire. At one end of the cage was a large metallic box with a door that opened into the cage. I couldn't see it, but I imagined there was a door at the other end.

The domed cage was illuminated by a shaft of light that came from the top of the ceiling. There was a large, jagged hole, like a… sun roof. Dust danced in the bright light giving an almost glittering effect. All it needed was some dry-ice fog and a few spotlights.

"What do you think?" Ser Alrik asked.

"It looks like a mabari kennel, for very large dogs," I said. My forehead was furrowed as I considered the strange construct.

"This cage was built to hold magic, my dear. I'm rather proud of it. Those cables are made of the same material we make the stranglers from: black lyrium and silverite."

I fingered the torque around my neck. "This is black lyrium?"

"Silverite next to your skin. Some people are, hm, sensitive to black lyrium. It changes them."

I shivered and took my fingers off the torque. "Charming. So let me guess, you're going to throw me in that big cage and I get to battle to the death with something."

"Ah, my dear, you're delightfully perspicacious!" he said, beaming at me.

"Not really. I saw the movie."

The look he shot me was one of suspicion and curiosity. He was probably trying to figure out what sort of demon made me say such strange things. "So you think this will be easy?"

"I guess it depends on what you stick in there with me."

I looked around huge cavern and was surprised by the number of templars. _Oh, please. Really? _It occurred to me, that this wasn't simply a test for me, it was entertainment for them. There was even a bar set up and a dwarven bartender.

Ser Alrik turned to the assembled templars. "Gentlemen, and ladies, please take your seats. Tonight we will see what stuff a Grey Warden apostate is made of. I give you Elissa Cousland."

There was a murmur that overtook the cavern. I heard some raucous comments thrown around.

"She's the Hero of Ferelden?"

"I could take her."

"Yeah, right. Good one, Alrik."

I bit my lip and shook my head. _Asses. _A part of me wanted to rise to the challenge and give them a good show, but I remember how much of my magic would probably be frowned on. It might be a bad idea.

Alrik gestured to the templars behind me and they walked me to the entrance of the cage. One of them opened the door with a gloved hand and then gave me a little shove. I stumbled into the cage, tripping over a metal footing at the entrance. Not exactly a graceful moment for me, and it gave the templars something to hoot about.

"Don't I get a weapon or anything?" I asked. If they didn't give me anything to fight with, this was going to be bad, depending on what they threw at me.

"Over here, girl," a templar gestured me to one side of the cage. "Put your back to the cage. I'll remove your strangler."

I hesitantly leaned against the cables and the templar reached through with a key and unlocked the strangler. While I touched the black cables, I felt a little edgy. The whole situation was starting to really piss me off. The strangler fell to the ground at my feet. I wondered how they planned to convince me to put it back on.

_Sweet relief! _With the strangler gone, I felt like parched ground at the beginning of a long soaking rain storm, as the emptiness within me began to fill. I tilted my face up to the ceiling, closed my eyes, and reveled in the return of my magic. Once again I felt the heartbeat thrum of my lyrium necklace pulsing against my chest.

"Now, since this is our first time, we will start slowly. Why don't you take a few moments to re-acquaint yourself to your magic."

I saw the wisdom in those words. It seemed like ages since I'd used my magic. I shot a few tiny lightning bolts into the ground, froze a small patch of sand, and rejuvenated myself. Whatever mana I used was simply replaced by drawing from the necklace Ernie had returned to me. I did a few limbering exercises and delivered a series of high and medium round-house kicks to the air and executed a leg sweep. Not easily done in a mage robe, my legs could easily get tangled. So I kindled a tiny flame on one finger and burnt the fabric along a seam on each side, up to the middle of my thigh. The fashion statement wasn't a consideration, survival was.

There were a number of cat-calls from the templar gallery.

"I'm ready," I said.

"Very well." Alrik smiled warmly at me. "Release the first opponent."

A large box built into the end of the cage opened and a deep stalker ran out, charging directly at me as so many had in the Deep Roads. It was like a goose with a sand worm head. Watching it charge at me brought back such memories: Riordan, Zevran and I fighting back to back in the Deep Roads, sneaking up to see the Archdemon and then me sneezing so very loudly, and all those times the three of us stole away for a quickie while everyone else slept.

I was so lost in nostalgia that I almost didn't act until the deep stalker had coiled its long neck and was about ready to strike. I hit it with a standard blast of cold and it froze into place. I wished I had a stick, or sword, even a dagger, then I could shatter it. Instead I whipped my foot out in a snap kick and the force of the kick sent the frozen worm-goose into one of the black lyrium columns where it did shatter. Unfortunately the kick was poorly executed with my toes, instead of the ball of my foot. I thought I had broken one or two. The felt slippers I'd been given weren't much protection.

I healed myself in a hurry waiting for more deep stalkers, but no more came. I could hear the clanking of coins being counted, a few excited yells, and saw one or two observers jumping out of their seats and pumping their fists.

I peered into the crowd, trying to find any familiar face, but I recognized no one save Alrik who was striding to the observation area to address the small crowd. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but there was a little argument back and forth. Finally, a decision seemed to have been reached. Alrik came back to the cage.

"Are you ready for your next test? This one will be a little more challenging," he said. "I think we clearly haven't come anywhere near to your limits. We'll just go a tad further this time."

"Let's get on with it." I was eager to end this test. If I would be with the other mages, perhaps I could get word to the outside world.

Ser Alrik nodded but said, "This will not be so simple this time. Believe it or not, I'd like to see you succeed."

I narrowed my eyes. "Money riding on it, eh?"

The templar's wide blue eyes seemed guileless as they held mine. "You're so cynical, my dear. I'm simply thinking of you and how much better this is than a full harrowing."

_Yeah, right. _I so wanted to say it. This so-called testing was nothing more than the dwarven Proving Grounds, only mages were pitted against whatever the templars wanted to throw at them. Fight and win, or fight and die. Still, if this could win me at least a little freedom, I would play their stupid game.

This time a hush fell over the audience. I heard the door at the far end of the metallic box clang open and closed again. Alrik strode to the stands and stood watching me like a parent might watch a talented child perform.

The door from the box, or staging area, opened and a trio of ash wraiths glided out. They came for me instantly, not even pausing to search for their opponent.

_I hate these!_ I wanted my armor. I wanted my daggers or a staff. I wanted Alistair to keep them busy while I picked them off. But it wasn't like I hadn't fought these in the past. I knew what would happen. A strong ice spell splayed from each hand and all three wraiths were hit, some of the magic flared out to the sides and hit the thick mesh of the cage and the magic sizzled and died right at the cables. One wraith disintegrated, an event that would have made me celebrate once, but I knew better now. I ran, triangulating from the position between where I was and where the other wraiths were.

Predictably, the disintegrated ash wraith reformed behind the spot I had been standing. I had learned that trick of theirs long ago, but now I was closer to all three. I ran backwards, keeping them ahead of me, and eventually they bunched up. I hit them again with ice. This time two of them collapsed.

That was the challenge; you could never tell when they were being sneaky or actually had been killed. So I had to assume one or both would teleport behind me. There wasn't enough time or space to repeat my last trick. I could Fade walk and increase the distance by nearly the entire length of the cage, but what would happen if I displayed that magic in front of a roomful of templars? I couldn't risk it.

I turned and ran for it. I thought there was enough room and I wouldn't be hit as I dashed past it, but I was wrong. The wraith took a swipe at me and slammed me against the side of the cage. I was stunned for a moment, and my head buzzed when I touched the cables, but I got to my feet. I could dimly hear a roaring from the audience, but it barely registered. I was too focused on surviving without displaying some of the peculiar things I'd learned to do.

Then one of the two wraiths materialized.

_Good! One down._

I lashed out with the strongest lightning spell I had, and it wracked the ash wraith that clobbered me. It dispersed and I was certain I'd killed it.

_Two down, one to go. _

Wraiths, other than their maddening habit of teleporting around, were not all that fast. I could run to put distance between us, turn and cast, and then run again. So that's what I did. It stupidly followed me as I ran a circuit around the dome, turning around every now and then to blast it. It took two or three more blasts, this one was tougher than its fellows, and then it disintegrated. I ran from my spot, but it didn't rematerialize.

This time the audience erupted in a roar. There was stomping, whistling, a few boos and I heard someone yell, "All she did was run around, what's so great about that?"

I stood in the middle of the domed area panting. My heard hurt where it had been slammed against the cable side of the dome. I cast a healing spell, followed by a rejuvenation and ignored the hubbub from the crowd.

Ser Alrik greeted me with a warm smile and, I dare say, a look of approval. "Very good. Not many apostates have done so well on a first round. You're done for the night."

If I were ever going to explode into an abomination, it would have been right after that comment. I gripped the wire frame of the dome, fingers twisting around them as if I could pull them apart. "For the night?" I spat the words like they were poison. Aggressiveness was surging within me, maybe the violence had kicked it off, making me take risks with my templar captor. "Are you saying I'm not done with your… so-called testing?"

Apparently the anger in my words stung Alrik. He stepped up to the cable and spoke low, the shades of menace clear in his voice. "That's right, Elissa. You'll be facing more opponents in the future. This was simply a warm-up. I suspect we haven't really even challenged you yet. I suggest you don't disappoint me."

I let go of the cables feeling like I wanted to keep fighting, but not with wraiths and worm-geese, but templars. I wanted to feel a million kilojoules of lyrium-enhanced magic surge out of me into my captors, turning them into sheets of ash. Then I'd roll them into a fine cigar and smoke them. I was trembling with rage, horrible, impotent rage and my head was buzzing. Buzzing like—like—like when I'd hit it against the cables, and now I'd been gripping them with my hands.

_Some people are sensitive to black lyrium. It changes them. _Templar Alrik's words came back to me in a rush.

_Fuck!_ I ran back to where I'd dropped the strangler and fastened it around my neck. Instantly my rage diminished and was replaced by fear. What the hell was that? Could a demon have actually been trying to take me over, or was this the black lyrium? That would make this all so much more interesting to the templars, wouldn't it? They wanted to see what it would take to turn me into some sort of demon. I had always assumed I was immune, but now I wasn't so sure.

"Anders," I whispered in the middle of the cage, my eyes darting over the crowd and the templars approaching the cage. "I really need you right now. I don't know what's happening to me."

_~o~o~o~_

Zevran and Anders, still incognito, were bleary-eyed from their two-day-long nap so they fit right in when they stumbled into the Hanged Man and rented a room, the last one, from the innkeeper. They failed to notice a woman few people fail to notice, a swarthy Rivaini wearing a tunic that barely concealed her ample assets.

Isabela, however, was not yet drunk enough to miss the strange couple. Her dark eyes sparkled as she pondered the pair. Well-dressed man with a mustache that was a little… hmm… bushier than most men sported. It was also a pale, golden-blond while the man's hair was tinged red. Still, even with the phony mustache, he was a gorgeous specimen.

The woman spoke a few words to the innkeeper and the Rivaini's head snapped toward her. _That voice. The accent! _Even though the words were spoken in a soft breathy tone, something utterly familiar tickled in her brain.

She watched the pair go to their room and drank another shot of Old Starkhaven hoping it would jar a memory loose. But the only thing she could think of was her dear, departed husband.

_~o~o~o~_

"Well, my friend, where do we start?" Zevran asked as he stripped off his mourning garb and stepped out of the high heeled shoes he'd worn. Groaning in pain, he sat on the bed, still dressed in stolen undergarments, and massaged his poor feet.

Anders ripped off the false mustache and yelped at the pain. He cast a healing spell on his upper lip and Zevran's sore feet. "First thing is to talk to Karl. The more senior enchanters, especially healers, usually get a fair amount of freedom. They're allowed visitors." He unbuttoned his stolen black doublet and put it away, then stripped off the fancy shirt they'd borrowed from a clothesline. "At least in the Ferelden Circle that was true."

The door to their room crashed open and a man and a woman—no make that a heavily armed dwarf, and scantily-clad woman with daggers—bustled into the room and locked the door behind them.

"No one move," the dwarf growled.

"I hope that doesn't include me," the woman said, a smile growing on her face. She bit her lip trying to suppress the amused grin at the sight of the elf in woman's underthings. "Because that cross-dressing elf murdered my husband."

"Great," the dwarf said. "I'll kill him first."

"Heh. Isabela, now, now." Zevran chuckled and shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wishing he hadn't put his daggers on a table across the room.

"Oh no, don't. I paid him to do it. I'm quite… grateful." She paused and looked at the elf with her dancing dark eyes. "I never did get to thank you properly. Well, only a couple a times, but I find things are best done in threes."

"So," Anders said, hesitating to draw attention to himself, "Do you know one another, or is this how they do social calls in Kirkwall?"

"Oooh, Zevran!" Isabela's bold gaze raked the half-naked mage. "You travel with very interesting company, these days, and in very interesting undergarments. Are you incognito or is this a new kink?" She smiled at the elf, flipped her daggers into their sheaths, and then turned to the dwarf and gestured for him to disarm. "Actually, I heard Zevran's lovely accent and I couldn't stop thinking of my husband. Anyone associated with my dear Luis is most likely looking to cause me problems, therefore…"

"Ah, Isabela," Zevran said, his brows knitting in mock despair. "I'm wounded you forgot me, perhaps even literally, if your friend uses that contraption."

The dwarf slung the strange-looking crossbow over his back and looked at Isabela. "Introductions, perhaps?"

"Oh, yes! Sorry, Varric. This gorgeous elf is Zevran Arainai, an Antivan Crow, and someone I was very certain had died."

"Former Antivan Crow, and yes, I am officially dead as far as the Crows are concerned."

"And I am Varric," the dwarf introduced himself.

Anders held out his hand to the buxom Rivaini. "I'm Anders, Grey Warden from Ferelden."

Isabela took his hand in hers and gave it a very soft, suggestive squeeze, her thumb caressing his. "And I am Isabela."

"She's a pirate captain," Zevran said. "Queen of the Eastern seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn, captain of the Siren's Call…"

"Former captain, sadly." She regretfully let loose of Anders's hand but held his eyes. "I lost my crew, ship, and some valuable cargo. I've been here ever since. Three years now." She put her hands on her hips and looked at Zevran. "Shall we catch up over dinner? It looks like you were changing into something a little more, or possibly, less comfortable."

"Yes," Zevran said. "Actually, it is good we ran into you. You've been here a while? Maybe you can help us with a little problem we have."

"Oh? Tell us all about it over supper. Varric is buying," she said.

"Hey!" The dwarf grinned and shrugged. "All right, I will. I get a feeling there might be a good story here."

"Good! Then it is settled. You'll get to meet Hawke," Isabela said.

"Who's Hawke?" Zevran asked.

"Oh, a friend, and the Champion of Kirkwall," she said exchanging grins with Varric. "Sorry about barging in on you like that. We'll, uh, just let you two get back to what you were doing."

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Lucy never met Isabela in the first story. I can only just imagine what might have happened. _

_Many thanks to Biff McLaughlin for correcting me grammars. My thanks to Zevgirl and Biff for their plot assistance. _

_The title is thanks to ScaryLady who asked if Cullen was still as mad as a box of frogs._

_Thanks to FloridaMagpie, Biff McLaughlin, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Aynslesa, KatDancer2, Storyteller44, Jenna53, 1Scarylady, Zevgirl and Rubberleg for review. Yay!_

_If you've got a second, give me some feedback. Who do you think Lucy should battle in the Thunderdome?_

_Just published a new, very short story called "Means Necessary". It is a rather unusual solution to the Blight. A tad gory, but at only 800 words how bad can it be? _


	27. Under the Dome

"A warning, lads," Varric said as his two new acquaintances arrived.

The elf and mage sat together, across from the dwarf. Isabela sauntered over to the table and wedged herself in between Zevran and Anders, giving them both a salacious raking with her eyes.

"Yes?" Anders asked. Zevran noticed he was stealing glances at Isabela's cleavage.

"Hawke is a little—Hm, how do I say this delicately?"

"You don't, Varric. You never say anything delicately," Isabela said.

"True, but I don't want to make it sound like Hawke is some sort of sex-starved—"

"Why not? That is exactly what Hawke is," Isabela replied. "There was that incredibly brief fling with Fenris and a night with me. That has been it for four years now."

"Hawke was drunk and probably doesn't even remember that night with you. In fact, I'm not sure you didn't just make it up," Varric said, squinting suspiciously at Isabela.

Anders and Zevran both jumped in unison as hands began to snake up their thighs.

"Isabela," Zevran cooed. "You know, I'm practically a married man these days." He picked up her left hand that was creeping toward his crotch, kissed her knuckles, and then placed it on top of the table.

"As am I," Anders said, shifting away from the Rivaini.

"Which is what brings us here, as a matter of fact. It seems we've lost our, hm—" Zevran was lost for words to describe their relationship to Lucy.

"Commander," Anders added helpfully.

"Innamorata," Zevran said, looking at Anders smugly. If the mage wasn't going to stake his claim, he sure would.

"Erm, lover," Anders added. "And the Warden-Commander of Ferelden as well."

A strong hand clamped down onto both Anders's and Zevran's shoulders. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly?" A solid contralto voice cut through the racket of the bar and instantly the hubbub ceased and it seemed every eye turned toward them. "You're both sleeping with the same woman?"

"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Doria Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall," Varric smiled smugly at the woman standing behind the two newcomers who both turned to look at her.

"This should be fun," Isabela muttered, in a way that clearly signaled it wouldn't be.

Zevran took in the woman standing behind them. That was the first surprising thing. He'd pictured Hawke as a man. Something in the way they had talked about her had given little indication of gender, but she was a fierce-looking woman, although decidedly an attractive one. Her messy mop of short black hair really set off her pale skin and green eyes, and the smattering of freckles across her nose was downright adorable.

"Ah, my lady," Zevran said, rising. "I've been hearing your name ever since we arrived this afternoon." He picked up her hand and kissed it gallantly. "I'm truly honored to make your acquaintance."

Hawke's eyes raked him. It was a look touched with disbelief, anger, and a bit of envy. She turned the same look on Anders. "Two men," she muttered. "The fucking Maker is a bastard."

Isabela waved urgently at the waitress. "Hawke needs the usual, but double." The waitress nodded and rushed off, looking concerned. "And fast, you hear?" Isabela shouted the last.

Zevran noticed a mounting tension in the bar. Even the easy-going Varric seemed taut with anticipation, like Hawke was a bomb that could go off at any moment.

"Come on, Hawke. Sit down and relax a little," Varric said. "These lads are friends of Isabela's. Here from Ferelden, looking for a… friend of theirs. They were just going to tell us the story."

The fierce-looking woman sat down next to Varric, still looking generally hostile and unhappy. "Have you seen Fenris?"

"Hurry up with those drinks, Norah!" Isabela bellowed at the waitress.

"No," Varric admitted. "Forget about him. He's having too much fun torturing himself with his past."

Practically galloping to the table Norah set down a bottle and an empty glass in front of her. "There you go, Champion. On the house as long as there's no fighting tonight."

"Thanks Norah. If there is, well, you know where to send the bill for the damages," Hawke said. She poured the first drink carefully, lifted the glass, and then sent the contents hurtling down her throat.

"All right," she said, after clearing her throat. "What's your story? And who is the greedy woman you've misplaced?" The second drink wasn't poured quite so carefully but it was swallowed just as recklessly.

"You're Ferelden yourself, aren't you?" Anders asked, smiling pleasantly at the woman. "You might have heard of her. She's Elissa Cousland."

Doria nodded. "Sure. The Hero of Ferelden." She snorted and gave a short laugh. "I never should've left. I should've stayed and joined the Wardens."

"Now, Hawke," Varric said, spreading his hands and shaking his head. "Look at what you would've missed out on: reclaiming your family's wealth, killing the Arishok, meeting us…"

"Betrayal by my best friend, rejection, being blamed for my brother's death, um, my sister hating me for… well, everything," she countered.

"Come on, sweet thing. Drink up. It'll take the edge off, and if that doesn't work, I'll take the edge off for you. Or we can go to the Blooming Rose and do something shameful." Isabela got up from between the two newcomers and sat next to Doria, pouring her another drink.

"I already told you, I don't…"

"You did, sweety. You did," Isabela insisted with a self-satisfied smile.

"That's disputable." Doria glared at her and then turned her attention to the two newcomers. "All right, let's hear it."

Both men began to speak at once.

Hawke held up a hand to silence them and pointed at Zevran. "You tell it. I like your accent."

He inclined his head at her. "Grazie." He might as well make the most of the attribute she appreciated. Isabela seemed to think Hawke would be a worthwhile ally. She did kill the Arishok, the highest ranking general amongst the Qunari. An amazing feat, given that male Qunari are built like mountains and the Arishok was the military leader, most likely an extremely talented and well-trained fighter. Someday he would have to find out how she did it.

"Lucy was kidnapped," he said.

"I thought her name was Elissa," Hawke said, not letting such a detail escape.

"It is," he lied without batting an eye. "Her nickname is Lucy, or Lucia as I call her."

"She was kidnapped?" Doria said, prompting the Antivan.

"Yes, by templars from the Circle here. We think her brother might have been behind it," Zevran said. He watched Varric and Hawke exchange dubious glances.

"The Hero of Ferelden isn't a mage," Hawke said. "Why would templars want her?"

It was Anders and Zevran's turn to exchange glances.

"We don't know these people," Anders muttered quietly to Zevran.

"I do know Isabela," Zevran whispered back.

"We're not going to get very far, if you don't tell me what's up," Hawke said, interrupting the mumbled exchange. "Look. I'll be blunt with you. I don't like the Chantry and I really don't like the templars, especially in this accursed city. The templars were pretty worthless during the Blight, and my own father and sister were free mages. After living her whole life free, my sister was finally found out and is in the Circle now. So if the Hero of Ferelden is secretly an apostate, I say 'good for her'."

Anders nodded. "She is but there aren't very many who know. Besides, she's a Grey Warden and our order is supposed to be off-limits to the Chantry."

Hawke barked out a short, mirthless laugh. "Sure, sure. Listen, the templars run this place. There was a viscount, Dumar. He was appointed to that job by Knight-Commander Meredith, but she's now the acting viscount while he recovers from being beheaded." She took a deep breath and continued. "Prior to that, there was another viscount who was deposed by the templars because—get this—of a trade war with Orlais. The Divine ordered the Kirkwall templars to throw out the viscount and he died in prison. Poisoned. Under the Grand Cleric's _protection_." She snorted out another laugh.

"Maker's balls, that's a lot worse than Greagoir. He was an ass, but Irving could keep him in check most of the time." Anders bit his lip thoughtfully. "What's it like for the mages here? I have a friend in this circle."

"It may be one harshest in all of Thedas," Hawke said while carefully scrutinizing Anders. "A disturbingly large number of mages reportedly become abominations or dabble in blood magic, according to the Chantry." Her head titled to the side as she looked at him.

Anders fidgeted under her close inspection. "Sounds like a good excuse to kill them or make them tranquil."

Grimacing at the thought, Hawke nodded slowly. "I can only hope my status is enough in this town that they'll leave my sister alone." Looking between the two men she settled her gaze on Anders again. "Are you a mage?"

"It's that obvious? I even stopped wearing robes and people can still tell?" Anders looked put out.

Smiling, Hawke shook her head. "I grew up around mages, my father and my sister. Maybe I just have a sixth sense about magic users, not that I can actually use it."

"This Meredith," Zevran said, trying to bring the conversation back to the topic of Lucy's kidnapping. "She sounds utterly ruthless. In Antiva, such people usually end up running a cell, or dead. I'm surprised no one has taken on the job. Perhaps it is time to rectify that. Or she might be a valuable hostage for an exchange."

"Good luck with that, my Antivan friend," Varric said. "The templars here practically _are_ Crows."

"Granted, it usually takes an entire Crow cell to pull off an operation like that," Zevran confessed. "But everyone is vulnerable at some point. Few people tend to check the privy to see if anyone is hiding amongst the waste."

Isabela snickered, but Varric looked green. "You didn't actually…" the dwarf said.

Zevran shrugged. "It was a shitty job but someone had to do it."

Hawke groaned and rolled her eyes, but looked amused. "All right. I may come to regret this, but I will help you find this…heroine of yours. Perhaps we can free my sister at the same time."

Norah arrived with a platter of roasted lamb and set it in the middle of the table. All the conspirators helped themselves to the meat, and then the potatoes and bread when they arrived. Zevran noticed that Hawke ate a little but drank a lot. She was beginning to relax and joke with Varric and Isabela.

"So, how do we get someone out of the Gallows?" Anders asked.

"The best way is to ask someone who escaped," Hawke said. Her eyelids were starting to droop and she smiled sloppily at the mage. "Happens, I know someone."

"So the templars aren't infallible after all?" Anders said. "Good to hear. Usually if they've got your phylactery, escape is useless."

"Well, this mage's phylactery was lost when he joined the Kirkwall Circle, and they hadn't gotten around to making a new one yet." Doria pointed a greasy finger at Anders and winked at him. "Hey, you might even know 'im. Karl something, from Ferelden."

Just as he was taking a big bite of lamb, it fell from his mouth when he heard Karl's name mentioned. "Karl? Karl Thekla?"

"Yeah! That's him. He escaped from the Gallows a while back and has set up a clinic in the north-eastern part of Darktown. He helps us out from time to time," Doria said.

"We've got to go see him," Anders said, turning to Zevran. "I can't believe he escaped. He was always one to follow the rules." There was something ironic in the mage's smile. "I took a lot of crap from him for my escape attempts. We have to go see him, if for no other reason than I can gloat."

Doria nodded at the mage. "Absolutely. Tomorrow, first thing."

The news of Anders's friend having escaped the Gallows cheered both men. That was proof that it was possible and had even been done recently. Things finally seemed to be going their way. The dinner extended late into the night. It broke up when Isabela and Doria staggered out of the Hanged Man, heading to the brothel in Hightown.

Returning to the room they were sharing, Zevran noticed Anders's pensive mood. "What troubles you, Twitch?"

Anders sat down heavily on the bed. "Why did Karl escape? Things must be really bad if _he_ did. What are the chances we can rescue Lucy before they make her tranquil? All that has to happen is a mage with healing training examines her and they'll know she's different. One word to the templars…"

"Brasca! Don't remind me how useless we are right now. There must be something we could be doing. I could find a corrupt Chantry sister to deliver a message, a housekeeper willing to help us for a tidy bribe, a corrupt templar, but it all takes too much time." He sat down on his bed dejectedly.

"There's nothing you can do tonight. Get some sleep. I will try to contact Lucy again. If I find her in the Fade, we know were not too late." Anders rooted around in his pack for a lyrium potion. "If nothing else, I will assure her we're on the way."

As usual, leaving the work to Anders didn't sit well with Zevran. "Yes, go to the Fade and find her. I don't think I can sleep." He began to remove his white shirt and replace it with a black one. "I'm going to look around the town. Learn what I can."

Quaffing a lyrium potion, Anders nodded at Zevran. "All right. See you later then."

Zevran nodded and opened the door.

"Antiva," Anders said, pausing to look at the elf.

He turned and looked back at the mage. "Si?"

"Be careful."

"You too, Twitch."

The door closed quietly behind the elf and Anders lay back on his bed, letting the lyrium carry him into a trance that would lead him to Lucy, or so he hoped.

_~o~o~o~_

The _thing_ glittered as the templar handed it to me. Little silverite links of mail tinkled almost musically as the armor was draped over my arms.

"Ser Alrik orders you to wear this for tonight's match," the templar said. He looked a little curiously at the armor himself.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked the question, knowing full well what it was. I'd seen this sort of thing before, usually on the cover of pulp fantasy novels, Frazetta, or Vallejo posters hung in dorm rooms, where warriors wore helms of steel and strategically positioned bits of cloth. This was the Thedas equivalent of the chainmail bikini.

"It is your armor. He said it was imbued with magic."

"Plus five sexterity?" I held the linky-clinky thing up to my shoulders and noticed that the leather bits would cover most of my breasts. I put down the top and picked up the skirt. At least it was solid leather, but more of the overly delicate chainmail hung over that. Well, I guess it wasn't much worse than what the Dalish girls wore, although that skirt did look very short and it seemed like it would ride low on the hips.

The templar handed me a pair of boots next. Well, at least those looked pretty solid, even if they had rather more heel than was sensible.

"Um. I think these go on under," the templar said.

This time it was a pair of soft leather undergarments. A bra thing and… oh yes… even something that resembled panties, or an abbreviated swimsuit bottom. Clearly Bann Teagan wasn't the only one in Thedas into sexy lingerie. I could only shiver with loathing thinking that creepy Alrik had picked these out.

"Gross," I said as I pictured him picturing me in this getup.

"What?" the templar asked.

"Never mind."

"Someone will come by to help you dress soon. You might want to take a bath." His eyes flickered from me to the bathtub and back.

"I took one already today and I don't really see the point of being all clean and perfumed if I'm going to be fight rabid nugs. I'm going to be bloody and sweaty at the end of it anyway."

It was the nervous lip licking that gave it away. Either the templar wanted to hear me taking a bath and use his imagination, or he was spying on me somehow. Whichever it was, it was disgusting.

"Oooh, get out!" I shouted. I pushed him toward the door. I was strong, but he was big and dressed in plate mail. It wasn't terribly effective, but he did turn around and leave. My fingers scrambled over the wall looking for cracks, loose bricks or anything that could be used to spy on me. I finally found a hole that looked like it had been intentionally drilled. It was covered from the other side so the light wouldn't shine through it. I clawed through desk drawers looking for something narrow and pointy. _A writing quill!_ I viciously stuck it through the hole, hoping to poke out an eyeball. I didn't hear any screams so I had to assume no one was foolish enough to be spying on me in that moment.

_Now what?_ Looking around the room, I saw that the bookcase could be moved out from the wall and put it in front of the tub. I could change behind that as if it were a screen. I also left the quill poking out of the hole as a warning.

_Holy Maker. Are templars all this perverted?_ Then I remember Fergus's words about these being particularly debauched, which would be part of the appeal of sending me to them, no doubt. Well, I didn't relish someone helping me change either. The thought did occur to me to refuse to wear the outfit, but why give them ammunition against me? They could dress me like Princess Leia in Jabba the Hutt's court if I were tranquil and I'd do it without protest.

I think this fully proved to me that I was entertainment and as long as I continued to be entertaining, I might avoid tranquility or death. So, okay. They want some sleaze? I could give them sleaze. Performance art. Yes, it was performance art. I could work with that.

I changed into the outfit and practiced moving in it. I noticed I could whirl and the skirt would flare out, exposing a bit more thigh, and even a bit of the leather panties. The chainmail would catch the light and shimmer a bit. I could sense enchantment in the armor, but I wasn't sure what it was. I was putting my hair into a French braid, when the door opened and a female templar walked in.

"Oh, you've already dressed," she said. "Well good. Let's get your hair done."

"I've about got it finished." It needed a few more twists.

"Hm, I guess it'll work with this." She took a circlet out of her bag and settled it onto my head. I could feel another sort of magical property from it. In fact, it felt like lyrium.

"Now I really am Princess Leia," I said making a face at myself in the little mirror in my room. "All I need now are cinnamon buns over my ears."

Next she took out a pair of fingerless gloves and laced them onto my arm. They extended all the way up to my elbows. I could feel magic in each of the items she had placed on me.

"You look ready, all but a weapon. What would you like?" she asked.

"I get a weapon this time?" That heartened me. The magic I learned from the trapped spirit in the Brecillian Forest was subtle, but it enhanced my strength and speed. "I'd like daggers, or a bow. Both, actually."

"Don't get greedy. I will see you have something for your fight tonight. You'll need it."

"Why?" I asked. "I thought this was supposed to me a magical test of some sort."

The templar woman just smiled at me. "You'll see soon enough. Besides, your reputation is as a warrior, I suspect many will want to see that."

"Right," I muttered. "You know if there's an entertainer's guild, I'm going to lodge a complaint. The pay is terrible and, for this work, there should be hazard pay."

"Very funny," she said, looking rather irritated with me. "Someone will come for you shortly." Turning, she left my room but returned moments later.

"I think this is yours?" She handed me the quill I'd stuck through the peephole.

"Yeah. You might want to let your colleagues know that the Maker strikes blind those with impure thoughts," I said.

She smirked and I think she might have even been thinking, _"I hear ya, sis."_ But what self-respecting templar would ever share a solidarity moment with a mage? I might as well be a Martian.

_~o~o~o~_

My heart pounded to the stomping and clapping as I walked out into the cavern, flanked by my templar escort. As they unlocked the door, I turned to look at the crowd. It was almost double the last time, and I was willing to bet not everyone was a templar. Some of those people looked like nobles.

_Come on then, give 'em a show!_ I had to goad myself to it. I lifted my head, smiling broadly, and curtsied. Then I focused in on one random person and gave him a wink and a nod, as if to say, "I see you, friend". I was trying to be the charismatic gladiator. One that people would want to see return to the arena week after week. If I were a rock star, they might not tranquilize me. At least that was my theory.

"Get in there," one templar said, nudging me toward the cage. I whirled hoping… yep, it worked. The feeling of cool air against my butt cheek told me that the little leather skirt had flipped up, probably revealing a little of those leather panties. If I'd only had a knife back in my room, I would've carved them into a thong. I had to be careful though; there was such a thing as too slutty. I was going for _the_ Madonna, balanced by a bit of Madonna. Andraste with sass and a bit of sex appeal. Let's face it, I had no clue other than a deep desire to survive with my wits and will still intact.

The increase in cheering told me the sassy flipping of my skirt hadn't been in vain. Still, I could hear shouts of "Whore of Ferelden", making a rather nasty epithet of my title, but overall the audience reaction seemed positive.

I strode into the center, faking confidence with head held high, until I saw the large patch of fresh blood on the ground. I stared at the wet sand, red with the blood of someone or something. It could've been an apostate proving herself, as I had, only maybe they'd given her a nug to fight. A mean one, I'm sure, but that could be nug blood right there.

No. What mage draws blood from the enemy? They fry them, zap them, freeze them, strangle them, disease them, crush them but I couldn't think of all that many mages I'd know who make a puddle of blood like that one. The mages I knew who drew blood drew their own blood. The puddle seemed less and less likely to have been made by a slaughtered rabid nug and more likely to have been the last stand of an apostate, like me. Maybe she'd touched the black lyrium too much and anger drove her to desperation. Had she cut herself?

My mind was racing with speculation as I stared at the spot. What if she'd been on the receiving end of the templar's brand of mercy?

"Hey, apostate! Wake up! We haven't got all night." The templar was motioning to me to come to the side of the cage. "You do want your strangler off, don't you?"

Blinking, I tried to forget about the blood on the sand before it completely eroded my confident façade. I went to him and leaned against the black cables, only this time I knew what would happen. As soon as my strangler dropped to the ground, I broke contact with the wires, but even so I could feel a momentary buzz in my head, my teeth grinding together, and a furrow growing on my brow. _It's the black lyrium_, I reminded myself.

"Wasn't I supposed to get weapons for this?" I asked the templar who had removed my strangler.

"Hm. Could be." He shrugged, but looked highly amused.

"Ass," I muttered under my breath. _Careful._

The door at the far end of the cage cranked up slowly and I could see four thick legs like small tree trunks. My peevish mood took on a tinge of fear. I recognized those legs. I didn't need to see what awaited me.

_Bronto._

Okay, I've fought these before.

_Not alone, you haven't. Not weaponless. Not in a chainmail bikini._

True, I had Alistair or Oghren getting its attention while I worked on it from a distance with magic, or from behind with my blades. Oh, I have spells that would definitely work, but would scare the bejeebers out of the templars. I didn't need to whack the hornet's nest while sitting in the middle of it.

It looked bewildered for a few moments and then trotted out into the cage. I stood stock still while it looked at cheering templars. I could see its confusion turning to anger as it pawed the sand with a massive hoof. Finally it charged at the side of the cage, as if it couldn't see the black cables that would prevent it from escaping. Bouncing off the cables, it looked befuddled and even angrier. If the lyrium did to it what it did to me, then that was going to be one pissed off bronto.

The beast swung his head around and finally saw me, but since I was holding perfectly still he didn't quite know what to do. He sniffed at the air trying to decide and then he did just exactly what brontos do, he lowered his head and charged. I waited as long as I dared and then shifted. He'd gone too far to change course so he missed me and narrowly avoided crashing into thick strands of black lyrium wire.

I had seconds to put as much distance as possible between me and the bronto so I sprinted to the opposite end of the cage as I listened to a section of templar jeering at my self-preservation strategy.

"She's running again!"

"Stand and fight it."

"She killed a dragon? She can't even fight a bronto!"

_Morons!_ I had to block that out; I couldn't afford any distractions. I drew on the arcane warrior magic. It was subtle magic, only someone deeply skilled should be able to detect it and only if they were standing very closely. Not even Alistair could. This stuff made me stronger and faster. I was going to need lots of that.

The bronto had reached the end of his charge and turned, and the next charge came pretty fast. Would it be expecting my dodge?

Then I remembered something: the bull-leaper frescos of Minos. They were pictures of a sport where young men would leap over a charging bull, using the horns as leverage. I didn't have enough time to think about it, but as the bronto got closer I saw how I could do it. It would be difficult, but I had strength and speed. All I needed was a good bit of luck.

The huffing, snorting, charging mass of fury came fast, but I grabbed the two parallel horns, avoiding the larger middle one, and propelled myself forward. What I didn't expect was that I would end up completely flipping around and ending up astride the creature facing its hindquarters.

"Oh shit!" I yelled, grabbing onto his stubby tail for balance. It tried to buck, but the way the beast was built wasn't conducive to flinging someone off that way. Then it threw itself on its side and rolled. Nearly getting trapped under the beast, I managed to somersault out of the way, barely escaping its crushing weight.

The roar from the crowd scarcely registered with me; I was too intent on survival. But from my peripheral vision I could see they'd gotten to their feet and were yelling with excitement. I'm sure they'd had more than eyeful of my leather panties by now.

The bulky beast was still trying to get to his feet while I looked around the cage, hoping for some inspiration on how to kill it, when I saw a templar open a door in the cage and throw a dagger on the ground. Of course the bastard threw it as far from me as possible. Between me and the dagger, there was a bronto.

So, I would have to endure at least one more charge before I could get to it, unless—Earlier it seemed like it had trouble seeing the black cables. Perhaps I could trap the beast's horn in the matrix formed by the cables. I needed it to come right for me, and then I had to not be there. If only I could Fade walk.

I threw as big an ice spell at it as I thought I could do without upsetting the watching templars. Of course, it barely fazed the beast. I knew they were resistant to magic, that's why I wanted that dagger so badly. Still, I took off at a sprint, racing the chilled bronto. His start was sluggish, letting me get part of the way to the dagger before I had to leap out of the way. I jumped as high as I could, this time grabbing for the cables.

Hot beast breath steamed against my knee as I barely pulled my legs up in time. _Thank the Maker and the taint for a strong core! _The cage shook as he struck it. As close as I was, it felt like a major earthquake. A second earthquake seemed to be shaking the audience. They were standing, shouting, and stomping their feet. Then a third earthquake was a private one. The black lyrium was making my brain vibrate with anger.

"Black lyrium! Black lyrium!"I muttered through teeth clenching so hard my jaw ached. "Don't be stupid, Lucy." The desire to unleash the full force of my magic was insanely strong, yet it was also draining my mana. I doubted I could draw enough from the necklace to do anything, no matter how much I'd like turn myself into Godzilla, rip this cage apart, and pick my teeth with the puny bronto. Instead, I screamed at the bronto.

"Up here, you disgusting rhinoceros. Can't get me, can you? Nyaaaah, nyah, neener, neener, neener!" I taunted him with everything I had.

He kept backing up and ramming the cage over and over, hoping to dislodge me. Each time he tossed his head up, trying to gore me with that big horn in the middle of his forehead. If he would just—"Come on, fatso! You want some of this?"

_YES! _The bronto bellowed angrily, tossing his head again trying to reach me with his horn, but it caught in the matrix of the cage. He immediately panicked and began to thrash, entangling himself even more.

I leapt off the side of the cage, landing safely away from the bronto. He would be free soon, if he'd just stop panicking. Once again, I ran for the dagger and this time I made it. I scooped it up out of the sand, but was back to running until I was as far as possible from the bronto.

"Fucking templars," I swore, my anger starting to get the better of me. A single dagger wasn't a whole lot, but it was better than nothing. As I turned, panting for air, to face the bronto, I saw a templar open a different doorway and fling in another dagger.

It wasn't much, but it was something. I drew on the lyrium necklace, pulling from it harder than I had in any of these fights, trying to refill my empty reserves. Casting a rejuvenation spell did a lot to restore me, and I renewed the warrior magic the black lyrium had stolen.

Now I just had to get to the opposite end of the cage yet again, to get the other dagger. Then, once I had them both, what in the void was I going to do? I couldn't use the powers from Avernus's potion. If they saw me cutting myself, the whole arena full of templars would descend on me, but what if there just happened to be some blood? Did it really need to be mine? I thought that was what everyone hated about the Tevinter mages, they used other people's blood.

I'd figure it out. I took off running again, boosted by magic, and reached the second dagger just as the bronto freed himself from the wires. If he didn't look pissed before, and he did, he certainly looked it now.

Where the templars had been shouting before, they'd gone silent now. For a moment it was almost peaceful but for the palpable anger, mine and the bronto's. The bronto and I moved together. He came trotting to me, and I began running to him. That confounded him. He stopped and angrily pawed at the ground. Things usually run from brontos, but not this time. Lowering his head, he charged.

I just managed to leap out of its way. Grabbing his horn, I swung onto his back. I needed to act fast before he did another roll. I plunged both daggers into his neck. I'd have gone for the eyes, but I was too far back to reach over those horns. I penetrated the thick, scaly hide, but not terribly far. However, it did draw blood, perhaps even enough blood. I stabbed again, and again, getting my hands and daggers nice and bloody.

The yelling, cheering, stomping of the templars in the now broken silence was just a background noise to the outraged grunts of the bronto and the chorus of angry Vikings singing songs of death in my brain. I wanted to perform a trepanation and puncture his thick skull, but it wasn't working. I didn't feel that charge of energy and strength I'd gotten all those other times I'd used my own blood. Only then did I dimly recall that this magic required tainted blood.

I was out of time. The bronto was dropping to his knees, preparing another roll. I had to leap off. While I was flinging myself away, I realized I could accidentally cut myself, on purpose. I hit the ground and rolled, while my back was to the audience, my blades shifted just a bit, slicing open a cut on my leg. I lay there a moment, feigning that I was stunned, while the blood ran over my already bloodied hands and coated by blade.

_There!_ That was the power I need. I bounded to my feet and the templars were screaming with a new level of excitement. Maybe seeing the blood streaming down my leg had raised their blood frenzy to an even higher pitch. Apparently they hadn't sensed the weird magic that Avernus's potion made possible. That magic seemed to combine with the black lyrium fueled rage, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I launched myself at the bronto who was struggling to his feet.

I gathered it all in: my fury, the strength of the tainted blood magic, the hatred, yes, even the fear of never seeing my child, my lovers, or my friends. It all seemed to slow everything down, almost as if I were Fade walking, but I hadn't drawn on that power. All this was in my mind now. So it felt like flying even though it was only a few feet. I landed high on the bronto's back in a crouch. My daggers swept up in an arc over my head and then they came down. With everything I had, I plunged them into the skull of the struggling animal.

It seemed so slow to me. My arms were like silverite extensions of the blades. I had an eternity, or so it seemed, to think of the animal I was slaughtering to appease the blood thirst of those assembled. My hatred toward the animal that had been trying to kill me dissipated as the daggers pierced his skull and found his brain. The tight grasp of the black lyrium let me go as the animal slumped to the ground, not even thrashing, and died.

Leaping away from it, still holding those blood soaked daggers, I felt sorrow at the beast's unnecessary death. I don't know why, but I crossed my arms over my chest and bowed my head, acknowledging my opponent's death.

The audience erupted once more into frenzied applause, stamping, and shouting. I turned toward them, reminding myself that I was still an entertainer, dropped my daggers and raised my arms in a celebratory V as any gladiator would. I heard them shouting "Elissa" and "Hero"; if anyone was still shouting "whore", I didn't hear it. While I looked out at them, I saw one templar who wasn't standing and applauding. Those red, burnished curls, I knew them. _Sullen Cullen._His eyes met mine. I watched as he got up, pushing his way through the jubilant crowd. _Coward._

A smiling Ser Alrik walked to the cage. I'd never seen the man look so happy. "Brava, my dear. It seems you've won over quite a few unbelievers tonight. Now we've seen the woman who saved the world from Blight. Or at least, we've gotten a little glimpse. Although, one wonders how a pair of silverite daggers could take down such a tough beast, and with so little magic at that."

"That falls under the category of Warden secrets, Ser Alrik. I'm not at liberty to divulge them."

Alrik chuckled and I saw his smile change from happy to mean. "There can be no secrets between us, Elissa. But we'll discuss this later. For now, you've earned your rest. Put on the strangler and your escort will take you back to your quarters."

I stared at him defiantly. I so wanted to say, "make me", but even hopped up on tainted blood magic I couldn't take on thirty or more templars, so I dropped my eyes and walked over to the piece of metal that seemed to define my life these days. Fastening it around my neck, I locked it into place. It drained away my mana. The arcane warrior magic disappeared as well, but I felt the distinctive power of the tainted blood magic while my blood still trickled down my leg.

_Well, well. Learn something new every day. _

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__If you haven't read "Tea with Bethany", you might want to. I've semi modeled this Hawke after the one in that story. She's horribly frustrated with her love life. That's why she's seriously put out that Lucy seems to have more than one man. _

_Well, the muse, she comes and goes. Lately she's not so giving. I sit her down in front of the keyboard and she yawns and complains she's tired, or she wants to watch another episode of The Walking Dead. Really, between you and me, she's a bit of a diva. _

_Would love to hear your feedback, as always. _

_My thanks to Shi, Ana, Jenna53, Arsinoe, Biff, Zevgirl, KatDancer2, and 1Scarylady for the reviews. Also my thanks to Biff McLaughlin for her uber beta skills. My thanks to both Biff and Zevgirl for their comments and pointers and general moral support over on Google+._

_Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it, and to the rest of you, Happy Thursday!_


	28. Gallows Humor

Sister Silencia—I named her that for she spoke nary a word—came to tend to my self-inflicted wound after the fight with the bronto. I had been hoping they would send Orsino to me again, but apparently a shallow cut on the leg doesn't qualify for the attention of the First Enchanter. A pity. I wanted to find out if he had done anything on my behalf. Perhaps the next time I would simply have to injure myself worse. Or, if I were lucky, whatever I fought next would do it for me.

I laughed at myself and the morbid gallows humor that had seized me. _Gallows humor? _That set me to laughing even harder. "Hey, Sister. Did you ever hear the phrase 'gallows humor'?"

The silent sister said nothing but smiled pleasantly.

"You get it though, right? Gallows… The Gallows." I chuckled alone at my stupid pun while the Chantry sister cleaned and bound my wound. "People who have gallows humor are finding something funny to laugh about on their way to be hung." As I explained the joke, it stopped being funny so I shut my mouth and let her do her job.

When she finished, she stood and squeezed my shoulder companionably. I mouthed the words "thank you" to her. She mouthed back "you're welcome". I giggled because she wasn't hearing impaired and I was pretty sure her mouthing the words was technically cheating on a vow of silence.

I slept fitfully that night. Waking and then worrying that I would miss an important message from Anders so I tried to force myself to sleep. Yeah… that so doesn't work. I finally fell asleep as the sun rose until several hours later when a pair of templars let themselves into my room.

"Get up!"

One eye popping open, I viewed the two templars in full armor, including helms. It was a bad way to wake up, so I pulled the covers over my head and hoped for a better start to my morning. Sadly, it took a turn for the worse. One of the templars pulled the covers off my bed, leaving me stilled curled in the fetal position, shivering in my smalls. It was a humiliating position.

"Get out of bed, sluggard!" one said, his voice muffled by the helm. "Ser Alrik wants to see you immediately."

I stood, indignation rising. "Get out and let me dress!" I grabbed a blanket they'd pulled off my bed and wrapped it around myself, regaining some of my dignity.

"He didn't say anything about that. He just said to bring you right away," muffled-yelling-templar said.

I collected myself, trying to keep from yelling back. "I bet," my voice was slow, quiet and gentle like I was talking to a very young child, "he thought that you two were so intelligent that he wouldn't have to state things that are so _fucking _obvious." I couldn't quite help that the last two words detonated like explosive expletives.

They looked at one another and then shuffled out of my room closing the door. "Hurry it up then."

_Rude! _Simply rude. I pulled a baggy, black robe out of the armoire, and some clean smalls. No peep-show for these tin heads. I went behind the bookcase I'd moved and changed there.

The two templars marched me down the hallway, but where we normally go left when they take me to the black dome, we went right. I tried to pay attention to my surroundings, just in case I could get a message out. The only problem was I didn't know how the building was situated. What direction were we walking? I slowed down a little to take it in, and got an ungentle push from the templar behind me.

"Keep up," he growled.

_Too bad you can't kill people for being rude, _I thought, malevolently. Of course, half the world's population would be dead within a day, and everyone else would become extremely polite, which suited me just fine. For now, I would simply have to satisfy my anger by visualizing all the ways I could take out two fully armored templars without magic or weapons. Well, without regular magic. I could always do what I'd done with the bronto. Then, when they were bleeding to death, I could snatch their keys and remove the strangler. After that I'd crow-up and fly—I looked around the hallways, no high ceilings, and no ornate architecture to hide in—Okay, scratch crowing-up.

My daydream of curing these two templars of rudeness ended abruptly as the one ahead of me stopped in front of an open door and I collided with him. He grunted with annoyance and pushed me into the room where Ser Alrik sat at a desk looking amused at my clumsiness.

"Ah, I hope we didn't wake you, Elissa. You look a bit—tousled." He rose from his desk and gestured to a chair sitting in front of it. "Please, come in and sit down."

While I seated myself, he went to the door and shut it.

"Tousled," I said, punctuating it with a snort. "Your two goons weren't even going to let me dress." The comment made me reach up and try to smooth down my hair, but it was impossibly mussed from a restless night of not sleeping.

"We do have something to discuss. You remain a bit of a mystery, frankly. I've heard reports of, hm, unusual abilities that you've shown. Burton and Earnest swear they saw you translocate from one spot to another. Then there was the matter of last night's fight. How were you able to puncture the skull of a bronto with a pair of daggers?"

"As I said, Warden secrets—"

"And I said there can be no secrets between us. Did I not make that clear? There are no Wardens here to punish you for revealing your secrets. There is, however, me, and I don't care for evasions or lies." He cut me off, speaking quietly, but the threat in his words was palpable.

I sighed and looked down, trying to look like I was wrestling with a burden. "Wardens take the taint into their bodies and it gives us speed, strength, and endurance beyond the norm." I paused for dramatic effect and then met his eyes. "If we survive, that is."

He steepled his hands, fingers tapped together rhythmically. "Hardly news. The Wardens labor under a delusion that their doings are secrets, but what I saw was something more, and that hardly explains the eye witness accounts of translocations."

"Are you simply looking for a good excuse to make me tranquil?" I asked.

His eyes danced with amusement. "An excuse? I don't need an excuse, my dear." He placed his hands on the desktop and pushed himself up from the chair. "The Rite of Tranquility is practiced here prophylactically. I am trusted with the task of determining those who are fit, or not, to join the Circle, or to nullify any threat to the safety of the people of Kirkwall."

As he spoke, he walked to the door, and opened it. The two templars who had escorted me were waiting outside. He spoke in a low voice to them and then returned to his desk.

"Then what do you want from me?" I asked. "You told me if I passed your test I could join the Circle and I have. What more do you want?"

He walked behind my chair, putting his hands on my shoulders and rubbing them like he was trying to loosen up a prize-fighter, or massage a race horse. "I want you to show me the girl who killed the archdemon. I want to see how you did it." His hand slid down my neck in something that resembled a caress, one that turned my stomach. "I want you to impress me."

Pulling away from his creepy massage, I stood up and backed away. "Why? What do I get out of this?"

"Survival. Your mind left intact. You live to fight another day. Surely that is something you treasure, no? Your accommodations are comfortable, are they not? If you need something, you only have to ask for it."

"My freedom." The words popped out of my mouth without consideration.

Shaking his head he tsked at my hopeless request. "I think your problem, Elissa, is that you don't fully appreciate what we've given you here. He walked back to the door and opened it. The two templars who had woken me had between them a woman of perhaps thirty years. Obviously a mage, judging by the robes she wore.

"Please, Ser Alrik. I've done nothing wrong," she said in a trembling voice. She threw herself to the ground and groveled at his feet. "I'm a harrowed mage, ser. I will do anything you like." Looking up into his eyes, she was clearly offering herself to him. "Anything!"

My mouth fell open as I watched the woman beg. _A harrowed mage_. Hadn't Anders told me they were never supposed to be made tranquil? "You can't do that!" I stepped toward the woman on the floor and one of the templars stepped in front of me.

"I can. I have, and I will." He gestured at the woman. "Take her to the Hall of Tranquility and prepare her. We will join you shortly."

"No," I said, shaking my head adamantly. Cold terror gripped my spine at the realization that I was the cause of this through my obstinacy. "I'll tell you what you want, Ser Alrik. Don't do this. You've proved your point."

He didn't react, but stood there looking pleased with himself and watched the two templars marching off with the woman being half-dragged between them.

Desperate to get him to stop, I began to confess. "I can teleport. Short distances. I… I sort of step through the Fade."

"Ah, good. Confession cleans the soul, Elissa. Go on."

"I learned arcane warrior magic in elven ruins we found in the Brecilian forest. It makes me faster, stronger, harder to hurt."

His fingers twisted the ends of his mustache as he pondered what I was telling him. "This teleportation sounds like translocation, is it the same?"

I nodded.

"And how did you kill the archdemon?" His intense blue eyes were implacable.

"I didn't kill the archdemon by myself, you know. There were scores of elven archers, mages, dwarves, knights, troops and such. I merely made the killing blow."

"Fascinating. So it wasn't magic, per se, but your abilities as a warrior augmented by magic?"

"Plus," I said, "the enhanced abilities of a Grey Warden. Our stamina and speed are superior." It would seem he knew nothing of my shape-changing abilities and I wished to keep at least that private. Perhaps what I had told him was already enough to appease his curiosity.

"And this is all due to taking the essence of impurity that pollutes the darkspawn?" he asked, looking at me questioningly. "How is it you do not become one of those foul creatures?"

"If it doesn't kill you, you somehow master it and it makes you stronger." He was extremely curious about our Joining ritual and the calculating look on his face was unsettling.

"And do the Grey Wardens know who will master it? Are strong warriors more likely to survive? Do mages die more frequently?"

I shook my head. "I think everyone has their theories, but the mage I spoke to—who had studied the taint most closely—had no real idea."

"And what is your theory?"

"Genetics. You either have the ability to fight off the toxin, or you don't. Like how some people don't die from a plague even though everyone around them does." I knew the idea would mess with his mind.

"Where do you get these genetics?" he asked.

"You can special order them from an online retailer, or you're born with them." I shrugged. "Personally, I think you're born with it."

"So it is simply another way of saying it is your destiny?" He was beginning to look cross. Perhaps he had figured out I was bullshitting him.

"Yes, your genetic destiny."

"Is there no reason that someone else might consume this essence of taint and gain the benefits?"

I could see where his calculations were taking him. Did he intend to make his templars become like the Grey Wardens? "No reason whatsoever. Other than the fact you might die a horrible, but swift death." I decided not to tell him about the expiration date that would be stamped on his forehead. All these templars going extinct in thirty years seemed perfectly acceptable.

"And how do I prepare this essence?" he asked.

"Oh right. I get it. I tell you how to do it, even after warning you repeatedly about how dangerous it is, and then I'm the one who gets blamed when someone dies." I shook my head.

"We serve the Maker, my dear. The darkspawn were mages, magisters, who were cast out of the Golden City by our Lord and Maker. They were turned into the vile monsters they are today. If a mage like you can tolerate the essence, then surely it must be the case that the righteous servants of the Maker would survive easily."

"Oh dear." I shook my head yet again. It seemed the man's hubris and idiocy marched in lockstep. "If choice of occupation were the deciding factor, then it could be carpenters or swine farmers that have the advantage. No one knows."

It seemed I hit a nerve. His bland, unemotional façade melted into a sneer. "Serving the Maker isn't an occupation, mage, it's a calling." He advanced on me and seized my upper arm. "Let's go see to Cecilia."

"The mage? You're going to let her go right? I told you what you wanted."

"Come. You can deliver the good news yourself." His smarmy smile returned, unsettling me as it always did. I knew that smile concealed a hatred of mages. He thought of us as less than human, and probably wouldn't mind seeing us reduced to drooling pseudo-pods.

He didn't drop my arm, but held it firmly in his over-sized mitt as he escorted me out of his office. I was outwardly complacent with the handling, but nervous. That didn't ease up in the least when we entered the Hall of Tranquility. It was long room with stained-glass windows showing pictures of serene people—mages, I supposed—in bucolic scenes with frolicking lambs, gamboling foxes, and… was that a hedgehog? They had the Chantry's sun symbol emblazoned on their foreheads. One window depicted a smiling Andraste looking down from the sky, her hands spread as if she were blessing the entire spectacle. It was hideous, especially in the context of a mage strapped down to a stone alter, crying and whimpering in terror.

"Well, give her the good news, Elissa," Alrik said, look at me with his characteristically pleasant face.

My eyes shifted from Alrik to the woman, Cecilia. "They're going to let you free." The woman's terrified face turned to look at me and I could tell she didn't believe it. Of course, what I didn't know was whether I was going to be taking her place. Alrik's hand, still clamped firmly around my forearm wasn't reassuring in the least. Then Alrik flicked his head toward me while looking at one of the other two templars. That made my heart leap into my throat and pound. "What are…" I said, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Take care of her," Alrik said, clearly meaning me.

"No!" I tried to pull away from him, but his hand was now firmly gripping me, fingers digging into my muscles. I began to struggle furiously, convinced I was destined to be the one made tranquil.

"Take her!" Alrik thrust me at a templar whose arms pulled mine behind my back and held me firmly locked against his metallic exterior. I struggled furious, even trying to smash my heel down on the templar's foot. Little good it did against his steel boots.

"Elissa lied, Cecilia. You'll still be made tranquil. And you," he said, turning toward me, "will watch and see exactly what lies in store for you if you're not cooperative."

My breath caught in my chest. "You're a fucking liar, Alrik!"

"Silence!" he thundered. "Shut her up." He glared at the templar holding me still as if he'd been remiss in letting anything escape my mouth. "I certainly don't need my concentration broken."

I fought against the templar as he tried to stuff a rag into my mouth. Unable to scream the insults I wanted to, I kept my mouth closed. The second templar came to the assistance of the first. He pinched my nose shut so I couldn't breathe without opening my mouth, and then they just waited until I took a gasping breath and jammed the cloth into my mouth.

Tears leapt to my eyes as I nearly gagged on it. They were tears of pity for the mage on the table, tears of rage, tears of hopelessness. This could just as easily have been me and would be, if not today then tomorrow or the next day.

There was a smell I recognized, raw lyrium. It was a chunk of frozen blue metal, a brand. Cold steam sublimated off the metal device like dry ice. Muttering seemingly random verses from the Chant of Light—all the ones that were the most punitive and mage hating—he approached her slowly as she whimpered and twisted, trying to get free of her binding.

"The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world. She shall know true peace." The brand hovered over the forehead of the bound mage and Ser Alrik closed his eyes, summoning some templar power, perhaps robbing her of the last of her mana, and then it made contact with her forehead. "Know peace now, Cecilia. Peace and acceptance."

Her eyes met mine, panicked and pleading. _Intervene_, they seemed to beg me. What could I do? Even if I weren't being held in place and gagged, my intervention would just end with me in the same position she was in. I had so many reasons I couldn't: a son, Zevran, Anders, my toilet factory. There was a good life for me in Ferelden, if I could just get back to it.

A piercing scream ripped through the hall as the brand seared her forehead with cold lyrium. Raw lyrium was dangerous to humans. I could imagine the poisonous metal seeking out whatever part of her brain connected her to the Fade and severing that connection. Like the lobotomists on earth who performed this cruel procedure, whatever they destroyed in the brain, it took the personality with it.

I stopped struggling as the panic faded from her eyes and she relaxed against the stone. That was the moment when Ser Alrik removed the brand and I could see the sunburst icon that was left on her forehead.

"Another mage liberated from her corruption." He smiled at the woman as she stared at him woodenly. "How do you feel, my dear?"

"I feel fine." That was all she said. It was as if the last terrifying hour of her lifetime had never happened. She would never again disobey an order, fail to be pleasant, oversleep, eat one too many sweetmeats, fall in love, cry over the death of a kitten, or express a preference for one color over another. All that had been stolen from her while I looked on, unable to act, unwilling to act.

"Let her go," he said to the templar restraining me as he pulled the cloth from my mouth.

My arms ached from the tension of being twisted behind me and of witnessing what I'd seen. My heart ached from the unnecessary cruelty and my inability to do anything about it. The threat of tranquility was real now, completely real. Before, I don't know, a part of me thought it might be a lovely vacation from stress and unpleasant emotions. But the woman before me wasn't on vacation; she was empty of all the impulses that make us what we are. She was animated flesh, but was she still human? Anders's warning finally took on a reality I hadn't fully accepted until now. My struggles ceased as I saw my own future reflected from Cecilia's blank eyes.

I said nothing and walked quietly back between the two templars who had so rudely awakened me that morning.

_~o~o~o~_

That night there was another fight. The crowd had swelled once more and I saw fat purses of sovereigns exchanging hands. Ser Alrik said nothing to me. He didn't have to. I would give him what he wanted if it would buy me another few hours, another day.

There were gasps and then shouts when I stepped through the Fade and teleported from one end of the cage to the other and killed my enemy with a strike from behind. The Saarebus, mage of the Qunari, died with my daggers buried in his back. The cheering was immense. Apparently my style of magic wasn't quite so repulsive to the templars. I was showing them how a warrior uses magic. I could just imagine how quickly their estimation of me would change if I shape-shifted.

This fight took a toll on me. I had a burn on one leg and a far more serious cut this time. Perhaps this was serious enough to require the skills of the First Enchanter.

My gallows humor from yesterday was gone. I needed to get out of here.

_~o~o~o_

_**Notes: **__A funny thing happened when I was writing chapter 28. I had it nearly finished and I realized it really should be chapter 29. Other things needed to happen before what was happening there. So, here we are at a new chapter 28!_

_Thanks for beta-reading, Biff! She's got a great Mass Effect epic in progress. You should check it out if you're into ME. And also thanks to Zevgirl who gives me moral, and sometimes immoral, support and always excellent feedback. _

_AndAgain, glad you're back to reading! Zevgirl, your reviews always rock. Jenna53, thanks for the words! Biff, absolutely right about Doria. She could detonate at any moment. 1Scarylady, Karl seemed like a decent replacement for the missing Anders. DalishMage, I wonder that all the templars aren't struck blind by now. They were a pretty randy lot in Kirkwall._

_To all the others reading, drop me a review, I'd love to hear from you. Just click that little button right there on the bottom of the page. Woot!_

_Next chapter needs a bit of revising and such, so hopefully it won't take too long. There's a little romance brewing in my own life, so my time isn't 100% my own any more. Woo hoo! That means I might progress a little slower. You never know how the muse will react._


	29. Somniari

"Any luck?"

Anders opened his eyes to see the assassin standing next to his bed, still dressed in the clothes he'd left in. Zevran looked as tired as he felt. As a guess, the Antivan hadn't put head to pillow. "No," he said. An enormous yawn escaped his mouth as he rubbed his eyes, gritty from his own lack of sleep.

The elf nodded silently and sat on the side of his bed. "Then we know nothing more."

It was a statement, but Anders heard a question there too. Was she dead? Was she tranquil? "Perhaps she didn't sleep last night either."

Neither of them knew that Lucy hadn't slept until dawn broke, or what horror would unfold for her that day as Ser Alrik brandished his power by rendering another mage tranquil with her as a witness.

"What about you? Did you find anything?" Anders asked.

Zevran shook his head, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. "Nothing…"

The word was suspended in space. There was something left unsaid. "Why do I feel there's more you're not saying?" Anders asked.

"It is likely nothing."

"Perhaps, but you're not entirely convinced. Tell me."

"The whores are busier than normal. It seems a few templars have come into some money. Others are sulking, ordering the cheapest drink, cursing their fortune. Madam Lusine believes they're gambling on dog fights. She overheard them talking about a vicious red bitch who never loses a fight."

Anders sat upright and stared at the Crow. "You don't think that was a dog."

Shrugging, Zevran lay back on his bed, folding his arms behind his head. "I think that description could match Lucia just as easily." His eyes slid shut.

"Easily," Anders echoed. "Sleep some. Hawke will be coming soon to take us to Karl."

There was only the faint, regular breathing of a sleeper to answer him.

_~o~o~o~_

Lowtown was a slum, Anders thought, but Darktown was something even worse. This place gave squalid a whole new meaning, then mugged it and left it for dead. The pitiable souls who lived here were starving, and they were the lucky ones. The others were starving and diseased. The only people thriving were ones who should be spike-cozies, their heads keeping the ends of spikes warm. Yes, Darktown was where the edge of humanity met the edge of civilization and most people fell off. In a word, it was just the sort of place Karl would love.

"Uh, do you think you could give me a moment?" Anders turned to his companions and asked. Showing up like this was going to be a hell of shock to Karl, and then to explain everything that had happened since his last days at the Circle; best to do it alone.

Motioning to Varric and Isabela, Hawke walked them off a little way, but Zevran stayed behind.

"It's okay, Antiva. I know Karl. We were good friends back in the Circle," Anders said.

"I'll wait here." Zevran leaned against a plank that wasn't as dirty and decayed as most of them were.

Giving a short nod, Anders turned and slowly opened the door to the clinic. Karl's back was to him as he walked in, tending to someone lying on a threadbare mattress, blue healing light coming from his hands.

"Please, take a seat. I'll be with you shortly," Karl said.

He sounded distracted and, more than anything, exhausted. Anders walked up behind his friend and observed the person on the table. A young man, pale and shivering, lay there. Lung fever, no doubt. He stood next to Karl and extended his hands over the patient and began healing in tandem.

"That won't help," Karl said, not even looking up. "You need something for inhaled toxins. This is chokedamp, not lung fever." His voice sounded weary and tense.

"Oh," Anders said. He switched his magic and the infection ravaging the boy cleared quickly.

He and Karl dropped their hands simultaneously. Karl shut his eyes and swayed, about to drop where he stood.

"Easy there," Anders said. He put out a hand to steady his friend and watched him make an effort to pull himself together.

"Thanks, friend." Karl turned toward Anders to see who had so generously helped him, and he gasped. "Sweet Maker, I'm hallucinating." He staggered again and this time Anders caught him in a hug.

"No hallucination, Karl." He squeezed his old friend tightly, afraid to let go for fear he would collapse. "You need to take a break, my friend."

"You… Anders, we all thought you were dead!" Karl laughed and then pounded Anders on the back with his fist. "You bastard, you're alive!"

"More alive than you look, Karl. Andraste's tits, don't you sleep?" He wanted to catch up with his friend, but not when he looked this exhausted.

"Busy time in Darktown. Lots of chokedamp right now and the regular healers can't do a thing with it." He separated himself from Anders and gave him a weary smile.

"Listen, I met some of your friends in town. Doria Hawke, Varric, Isabela, those names sound familiar?"

Nodding Karl sat down on the bed next to his sleeping patient. "Oh yeah. I go on jobs with them sometimes. The money helps keep the clinic open and running, and besides I owe Hawke just about everything. She pays most of the bills. She's a hell of a woman, Anders."

"Karl?" Anders couldn't help the little smile. "You changing your mind after all these years? She's an attractive woman."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Not me, brother. You know my tastes. I was thinking about you."

"Ah." Anders returned the chuckle. "Well, it can't be me."

"No?" Karl tilted his head. "Did someone finally snare slippery Anders?"

"I have a lot to tell you, and I need your help, Karl. But you need some sleep, man. Look, get to bed and catch some Fade time. Then come to the Hanged Man tonight."

"I can't, Anders. I have more patients to see."

"I'll take care of them. Point me at them." Anders clasped an arm around Karl's shoulders and they toured the small, but tidy, clinic together.

Waiting until his old friend had retired to the small room that served as his bedroom, Anders stepped outside the clinic.

"Antiva, I saw Karl. He's fine, but exhausted. I'm going to take over here for the rest of the day. You don't need to stay."

Zevran pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and clapped a hand on Anders's shoulder. "You sure there won't be any templar raids?"

Anders shook his head. "Nothing is ever certain."

"Death is, my friend."

"Well, for today at least, not even that is certain if I take over while Karl rests." Anders began to roll up his sleeves and turned to go back to the clinic.

"Be careful, Anders," Zevran said, watching the mage's retreating back. "I don't want to have to rescue you too."

Turning at the door, Anders looked back at Zevran and nodded. It was good to know that his rival had his back. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about him as a rival.

_~o~o~o~_

That evening in the Hanged Man, a group assembled in one of the back rooms—the dwarf's private room, Zevran learned. Hawke was there with an exotically tattooed elf, one who wielded a two-handed sword nearly as large as himself. Isabella and a Dalish elf were also present. Karl entered late and seated himself next to Anders.

Anders leaned over and whispered to Zevran. "Ingenious. He has lyrium tattooed into his skin."

Zevran felt a flash of envy. Had he even known such a thing were possible, he'd have sought it out. The tattoos were stylish, and presumably lent him the strength to wield that enormous great sword.

"Interesting," Anders said, musing quietly to Zevran. "I think a mage could draw on that lyrium, like taking a potion."

"Like Lucy does with that necklace? Hmm. Perhaps I should have myself embroidered so."

"For her? She's got that necklace."

Zevran stole a glance at Anders from the corner of his eye, his mouth forming a half-smile. "Perhaps another mage would find it useful. Besides, they're stunning."

Karl whispered to Anders, loud enough for Zevran to hear. "I wouldn't advise it, the process is exceedingly painful. The young man has quite an aversion to touch from the process. Who knows what the stuff is doing to him."

Zevran overheard the comment and chuckled softly. "I've had worse."

Karl was about to voice another comment when Varric stood on his chair and called the meeting to order. "All right, settle. Let's get this meeting going." He turned to the tall woman slouched into a chair who looked broodingly at the lyrium embellished elf. "Would you do the honors, Hawke?"

She sat up straighter and her sour look was replaced by one of intense purpose. "We're breaking a mage out of the Gallows, a friend to Zevran and Anders, lately from Ferelden." She gestured at the two men. "And, of some note, she's the Grey Warden who ended the blight. She shouldn't be in the Gallows."

"Oh!" the Dalish elven girl exclaimed. "That's simply terrible. Aren't Grey Wardens outside the jurisdiction of the Chantry?" She peered at Hawke with oversized green eyes and then turned her owlish gaze to the two outsiders. "How wonderful she has friends coming to rescue her! Are you Grey Wardens too?"

Zevran exchanged a look with Anders and this time Anders rushed to provide the explanation. "She's my inamorata." Zevran didn't miss the gloating smile.

"So someone did catch slippery Anders!" Karl grinned at his old friend and clasped his shoulder warmly.

Isabela's sharp laugh cut through the assembly. "Let's save time. The hero is claiming her reward in this lifetime. She's sleeping with both of 'em."

"Oh!" the Dalish elf exclaimed. "Is polyandry a Fereldan custom? How delightful!"

Hawke sighed and shook her head. "No, Merrill. But despite her greed, we're rescuing her. The Chantry has far overstepped itself this time and they're due for a good smack down."

"The Gallows is said to be impregnable." Merrill's eyes had somehow grown even bigger with wonder. "How can we break in?"

Varric snorted into his beer. "As impregnable as a wayward Chantry sister after a pint of White Shear. Karl escaped."

Isabela nodded in agreement. "So did that oaf, the Launcet boy."

"And he fell off a wagon of stupid," Varric interjected. "But he somehow managed to escape. I think if he can break out, we can break in."

"I do not believe in impregnable," Zevran said. "They said that about the Fortress Moretti and yet it was infiltrated. Although it took six months to execute, eventually we had enough guards planted or bought off, to open the main gates."

"If only we had six months," Anders said.

"You don't need six months," Karl said. "Just take a boat, by the dark of night, to the far side of The Gallows. I can show you how to get in. There's a labyrinth of tunnels. I was lost in there for days, but eventually I saw patterns in the markings on the wall that led me out."

"Then we go," Zevran said. "Tonight."

"Not so fast," Karl said. "We have no idea where she is inside there. We'd be walking around blind."

"Not entirely blind," Anders said. "Wardens can sense each other through the tainted blood we share, if we can get close enough."

"How close is close enough?" Hawke asked.

Frowning, Anders shrugged. "I never was the best at that particular skill."

"Then if we successfully break into The Gallows we'd have to conduct a search for her. We'd shortly have every templar in Kirkwall on our asses," Hawke said. "Too dangerous. We need more concrete information."

"There might be a way," Anders said. "I have… well, limited communications with her."

Zevran watched him struggling with the decision as to whether or not to reveal his ability to find her in his dreams. He put a hand on Anders's should and nodded. "We have no choice but to trust these people," he said quietly.

Giving a short nod, Anders began to speak. "I can find her in the Fade when she sleeps. If she sleeps."

All eyes turned to Anders, and Merrill gasped loudly. "A dreamwalker? How can it be? That talent was lost with Arlathan."

"Hardly, Merrill. He is a Somniari. A practice even the magisters in Tevinter have banned." The lyrium decorated elf stood and began to reach for the great sword he had leaned against the wall. His voice was a deep growl. "They sneak into your dreams, drive you mad, or even kill you."

Zevran stood just as quickly, hands ready to unsheathe his own weapons. Why had he been so trusting? There was always something. No matter, he would defend his rival, his friend.

"Hold!" Hawke also jumped to her feet and glared at the elf standing beside her. "Enough Fenris."

He seemed to wither under her gaze, and sunk back into his chair. Zevran noted the hostility still lingering in the other elf's eyes. This one would bear watching. He seemed loyal to his friends but there was a hatred that burned in him, one that would either immolate him, or those around him.

"Look, the only thing anyone has to fear from me in their sleep is me seeing their deepest fears and darkest desires disguised by indecipherable symbolism. I've used it to try to communicate with Lucy, which I might add, is damn hard. And, uh, well to rescue her from the bad dreams that plagued her."

Karl looked intently at Anders and then shifted his gaze to Hawke. "I can vouch for the man. He's as skilled a healer as I ever met. His worst crimes were playing childish pranks and running away from the Circle. I would trust him with my life."

"A mage vouching for another mage, that's heartening," Fenris grumbled loudly enough to be heard.

"Fenris!" Hawke's voice cut through the room like a well-honed stiletto. "Outside, with me. Now."

The pair walked outside the room together shutting the door behind them. The only thing that surprised Zevran was that she hadn't dragged him out by the ear.

"Apologies," Varric said. "Fenris has trust issues where mages are concerned. He was a slave in Tevinter."

Varric did his level best to engage the group in lively conversation to take their minds off the pair in the hallway yelling at one another. In the end, only Hawke returned.

"Fenris sends his regrets," she said, her face looking like the inside of a thundercloud. "He's feeling like a bit of an asshole tonight. Hopefully after spending a long night of brooding and throwing wine bottles—newly emptied ones of course—he'll feel better tomorrow."

"Poor boy just needs a little…" Isabela began to say.

"Shut it, Isabela. I'm not in the mood," Hawke said, her words chopping like hatchets. She nodded at Anders. "Do your dream-walking thing and get a message to Lucy. If you can get some idea of where she is inside the Gallows, we'll go tomorrow night. Otherwise we've got to try something else. I might be able to see the First Enchanter. It isn't always easy to get to him. Depends on how cranky the templars are feeling."

"Sounds like a plan," Varric said.

Everyone's tensions were high after the argument between Fenris and Hawke. Zevran shrugged it off, it wasn't his problem. A few hours of sleep and then he'd prowl around the city. He knew Anders would have another sleepless night too. No matter. Whatever Hawke and her people decided, he and Anders would attempt the rescue the following night.

He and the mage took to their room to sleep a few hours. By whatever gods that there might be, he silently prayed, let us get to her in time.

_~o~o~o~_

Orsino stood in shocked disbelief, taking in my blood-covered hands, burned leg, and the skimpy outfit I was dressed in. The fight with the saarebus had left me looking like I'd been shot out of a dragon's ass after a thorough chewing.

"What in the Maker's name are they doing to you?" He rushed over to me and helped me to my bed.

"It isn't as bad as it looks." I limped to my bed and sat down gingerly, gasping as the burn on the back of my thigh stung like mad. "All right. It _is _as bad as it looks. Shit that hurts!" After the adrenaline and tainted blood magic wore off, I was feeling aches and burns that I hadn't noticed in the dome.

"Dare I ask whose blood this is?" He began with my burned shin, gently touching it as he healed. After healing the worst of my burns, his searching hands found a few sore spots, burns,bruises, pulled muscles, and had them feeling better in short order.

"It isn't mine." The words rushed out, knowing that behind every blood mage was the question of blood magic. "Well, not all of it. Most of it is from the Qunari mage the templars had me fight." I watched his hands working their healing magic.

He looked at me intensely, as if trying to both puzzle out the truth and make sense of what I'd said. "Maybe you should start there."

"Fighting the saarebus?" I yelped as he prodded a burn. "Don't all the apostates undergo a trial by combat in the black lyrium dome?" I scowled at him, thinking of Alrik's lies. "Ser Alrik assured me this was far more humane than a harrowing." I hadn't wanted to fight another person, but the saarebus was seriously trying to kill me.

"You're serious?" He drew away from me, alarm plainly written on his face. "That would explain why so few apostates have joined us of late. As harsh as she is, the Knight-Commander never would've allowed this."

"Where is she? She sounds like a peach compared to Alrik."

Snorting with contempt, Orsino resumed searching out my hurts. "In Orlais, meeting with the Divine. She'll be back in a week, maybe less." He suddenly let go of the leg he had been healing and looked at me with alarm. "You've got to get out of here before she returns."

"Didn't you just say she'd be the one to call a stop to this nonsense?"

"Alrik knows she wouldn't approve. He won't leave behind any evidence. At least not any that can accuse him of anything."

Swallowing hard, I tried to remember to breathe. "So by that you mean, I'm either going to end up dead or…"

"Tranquil, I'm afraid."

"Don't say that!" I could feel my throat closing with panic. "Is there any way out? If there is, I have to know. You _must _tell me!" I gripped the small man's shoulders and met his eyes with my own terror filled ones. His were sympathetic. I didn't want sympathy. I wanted solutions.

He nodded slowly, reluctantly. "There are ways out, but you're so well-guarded here, I don't see how we could make it work."

"Can you get someone in?" If anyone could get me out of here, it would be Zevran. He didn't have to worry about a templar exploding his mana and he was sneaky.

"Yes. It has been done." He looked nervous, and his hesitation was telling. "Dangerous though. For them and for me."

Tears slid down my cheeks at his reluctance. "I know I'm asking a lot. You don't really even know me, why should you care?" I wasn't ordinarily manipulative, but what he was saying had truly frightened me. "I'm sure I won't be the first mage who never sees her baby again, or her husband just returned from a terrible battle. All this after nearly dying when I killed the archdemon. But Orsino…" I let the tears come. They, at least, were honest. "I can't just stand around and let it happen. Are you going to?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes, but his hand gently glided over my leg and he healed the burn. I could tell he wasn't committed. "I will do what I can," he said.

I closed my eyes and bit at my lip to keep the sob from coming. _I'll do what I can, _was as close to a "no" as you could get without actually saying it.

"What about getting this thing off my neck?" I asked, pulling at the strangler. "If it were off, I'd be out of here in a minute."

He looked at me curiously. "Really? How?"

"Magic that isn't taught in the Circles. I learned from Flemeth's daughter."

I saw him growing intensely interested in me all of a sudden. "Such as?" he asked. His already wide eyes widened further.

"Shape-shifting, for one." I choked back my tears, realizing I might have found the leverage I needed.

"Transmogrification?" He sat up and his eyes shone with excitement. "That magic was lost ages ago, and if it hadn't been it would certainly be banned by the Chantry." He grasped my hand and squeezed it with his excitement. "Truly, you know how to do this?"

I sniffed and dashed the tears off my face with the back of my hand. "It isn't forgotten amongst the Dalish, and others outside of the Circle's purview. I have learned several animal forms."

He leapt up from my bedside and began to pace back and forth. "If you're tranquil or dead you can't very well pass it along. You could write down the process. Words of power, mental exercises, any ingredients if it is a ritual…"

"It isn't a ritual. It is quite easy if you're very familiar with your target. I could write a guide for you."

"Oh yes, do that. Do you have ink and quill?" He darted to my desk and looked through my drawers looking for a quill, but the only one I had was rough on one end, thanks to poking it through the templar peephole. "I will see you get more!"

"Orsino."

"How much parchment do you have?" He opened more drawers and started going through the armoire.

"Orsino," I repeated louder.

"Oh yes, ink! You seem to have plenty, but I'll have more sent up."

"ORSINO!" I shouted.

He froze in his tracks and stared at me in bewilderment. "What?"

"You don't get the spell until I get out of here. Besides, what makes you think Ser Alrik isn't going to consider you a loose end too?"

He almost looked like a mouse with darting eyes and quivering nose, watching out for a lurking cat. "Ah. Good point. I have been privy to your being here, haven't I?"

I nodded slowly, watching him carefully. "We have to kill him, unless you want to escape with me."

"Escape?" His eyes wandered up to the ceiling as he considered it. "I've spent my entire life in the Circle. Oh, I'm allowed to go into town, with a templar escort, of course. But I fear my freedom would be short-lived unless my phylactery was destroyed. I doubt I have skills to make it in the world out there, while here, my skills are needed and appreciated. No. Thank you for the offer, but I'll live out my years here."

"Then will you help me to leave? I promise Ser Alrik will die and you will be safe. I will also write that spell down for you." I barely breathed as I finished my proposal, too afraid he'd give me another tepid answer.

His eyes still sparkled with excitement. "I'm trusting there really is such a spell, but your point about my own vulnerability is well-taken. Very well. I will help you."

"Thank god," I whispered, reverting back to the oaths of my home world. "Look, let's start like this. Can you write down where I am in The Gallows?" I knew that it was a slight chance, but if I could memorize it, maybe I could tell Anders should he find me in my dreams again.

"Your quill is half-broken. But I will do my best." He sat down at my desk and began to write. The rough quill end scratched across the parchment surface. "You're on the second floor. You take a left at the south stairs, or right at the north stairs. Then you go down a long hallway. On the right, is another hallway with a heavy door, guarded by a pair of templars. There are three cells there for high-status prisoners. Yours is the first one on the left. I'll draw a map too."

I concentrated on the words he was writing and trying to commit them and the rough map to memory. I'd be lucky if I could read this afterward, the quill was awful, but when he finished, I read it and reread it trying to imprint it on my memory.

"Can you try to find someone in town for me?" I asked. "I'm sure they must be here." It was days ago that I'd had the message from Anders in my dream.

"Who and where?" he asked.

"Who is easy. One is Antivan. The other is a Grey Warden mage, Fereldan. The Antivan, Zevran, is a former Crow, so he's very good at this sort of thing. Anders is the mage. If he's close enough we can sense one another through the taint."

"The taint?" Orsino's head cocked and that intent scrutiny came back.

"Uh, a Grey Warden thing. Sort of a secret." I shrugged. "Dumb secret, actually. Look, get me out of here and I'll tell you that too."

"You don't know where I can find these individuals?" he said, frowning.

I shook my head. "I don't."

"Hm, I'll start by talking to Hawke. If anyone can find your rescuers, it would be Hawke."

I nodded eagerly. "That's good to hear!" I felt much heartened knowing that Orsino was on the job. "When can we talk again?"

"Why don't we leave a few of these bruises unhealed for now. You can ask your guard to send for me again. I will try to get word out tomorrow."

"Good! Or I can fall off a chair or something."

Orsino picked up my hand, and grazed it with his lips. What a charmer. "Until then, my lady."

I smiled at him as he left and looked back one last time. He was kind of cute. If my love life weren't already such a tangled mess… _Shut up, Lucy!_

_~o~o~o~_

_Second floor. Left at the south stairs, right at the north stairs… _I drifted off to sleep repeating those instructions and visualizing the layout of the place. First darkspawn swarmed the Gallows and chased me through the hallways I'd painstakingly memorized. I woke up poured myself a glass of water and repeated the instructions again, hoping Anders would come searching for me in the Fade.

_On the right, is another hallway with a heavy door, guarded by a pair of templars. They let me through, so I opened the door and found my room, just as it always was. There was something important I needed to do, what was it? I lay down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember, when I heard a familiar grunting sound and my nerves hummed like razor wire being strummed._

"_Darkspawn!" I sat up in bed, preparing to cast spells to protect myself, but then I felt the strangler around my neck. I remembered I had no weapons either. I was stuck here without any way to defend myself, except to punch them. Well hell, then, it was what had to be done. I flung open the door to my room and stepped out in the hallway, preparing for the onslaught of darkspawn._

"_Lucy, it's me, love."_

_There was a thrill of someone stroking my arm with the lightest possible touch of nerve excitation magic. There was only one mage who did that to me._

"_Anders!" I ran to him and buried my face in his neck. "The darkspawn are here, do you feel them?"_

"_No, this is a dream, Lucy. Now pay attention, sweetheart. I need you to wake up a little bit, but not entirely. Can you do that?"_

"_A dream?" The realization gradually sunk in and the feeling of darkspawn nearby left along with their snarling. "Then I'm not here, in the Gallows?"_

"_No. You are. Do you know where though?" Anders asked me, still stroking my arm but with a nerve-soothing magic._

"_Oh yes, Orsino told me. I'm on the second floor." Everything swirled a little and I began to think of the second floor of the Tower of Ishal, where Alistair and I had fought our way through darkspawn and crazed mabari. My surroundings began to look like that tower._

"_Who is Orsino?" he asked._

"_The First Enchanter." As I said it, Orsino stepped forward from out of a gray mist. I smiled at him, delighted to see him again. "Orsino, meet Anders. He's here to rescue me! Can you tell him where I am? I'm forgetting. I know the beacon is at the top and we're supposed to light it. Or was it the bacon is on top and we're supposed to fry it?"_

_Anders stepped forward and held out a hand, taking Orsino's in his and he shook it. "Nice to meet you, First. Can you tell me the way to Lucy's cell?"_

_Orsino nodded at Anders. "Pleased to meet you, Anders." He looked at me and sighed. "So she's yours? She is quite the hot tamale, son. If she wasn't taken, I'd have moved on that." He stared quite pointedly at my ass. "That is one fine woman. Umm, um!"_

_I grinned at Orsino and caught Anders rolling his eyes. "Lucy, bad timing for a sex dream. Orsino needs to tell me where you are."_

_I turned and stamped my foot, glaring at Orsino. "Stop being a letch and tell him!" _

"_Oh, very well," Orsino sighed and turned back to Anders. "She's on the second floor. You can come by either the north or south stairs."_

_He spilled out the entire instructions while I began to play with the feathers and straps on Anders's coat. I tuned out everything Orsino was saying and had Anders half undressed by the time he was done listening to the instructions._

"_Lucy, not now." Anders grabbed my hands and held them in his own. "I need to remember these instructions. There's something you need to pay close attention to. It seems like you have got some inside help and you may need to tell them this."_

_I pouted. "You've never turned down sex before. Are we over?"_

"_Lucy, pay attention!"_

_He looked angry, even a little frightened. "Zevran and I are at the Hanged Man. Remember that!"_

_I nodded, feeling afraid now. Were the darkspawn returning?_

"_I hate to do this, but you need to wake up now." He began to cast a spell._

_I could see it was a lightning zap coming. I looked around for what he was going to zap, but there was nothing around us._

"_Anders?" I whimpered. _

_The spell hit me and shook me hard. I screamed in pain._

"Aughhh!" I sat bolt upright in bed, still feeling like electricity was skittering through my body, even though it wasn't.

"You bastard!" I swore at Anders, angry with him, even as I was realizing that he'd contacted me in my dream. I knew why he'd done it, and my anger was completely irrational. He was trying to make sure I didn't lose anything from the dream by falling into a deeper sleep. I sat up in bed and cleared my mind, letting the dream come back to me. Darkspawn had been in it, of course, but so had… Orsino. Hm, he'd been flirting with me. _Oh Maker, no. _I felt my cheeks flaring into Technicolor. Oh well, what can you do? I'm sure Anders dreams about plenty of women other than me.

Snippets of the dream came back. Orsino had told him where my cell was, I think. Of course, my dream Orsino knew nothing more than I knew. I just hoped the directions were sensible and accurate.

Anders had told me something too. They were… someplace. I mused for some time, trying to let that last detail take form. _The Hanged Man! _It struck me suddenly, almost like Anders's bolt. I leapt out of bed and fumbled in the dark until I found the candle. There was barely enough moonlight coming in the barred window, but I did manage to get it lit. I wrote the name down immediately, using the mostly broken quill. After that I went back to bed and fell asleep, feeling just a little more upbeat about my prospects.

_~o~o~o~_

Anders sat up in bed, a grim smile on his face. Lucy was still alive and well enough to be dreaming about sex. He snapped his fingers and a candle flared to life. Grabbing a sheet of parchment, he wrote out what Orsino had told him. Well, really it was Lucy. He smiled at the thought of Lucy flirting with herself through Orsino. Someday he hoped he could tease her about that.

Zevran was still out. He knew it bothered the assassin when he went to the Fade to see Lucy. It was a skill he lacked. Something he couldn't compete with. It was ridiculous, the man had his own abilities that Anders couldn't match, plus he oozed a sensuality that was like catnip for women.

He undressed and got into bed properly. The lyrium trance had left him drained. Sleep came instantly.

He slept for minutes, or so it seemed, but it must have been a few hours. The sun was well up in the sky and spearing the gloom in their room through gaps in the curtains. Zevran had returned at some point and was sound asleep. Anders thought the sun had woken him until their door creaked open.

"Maker's balls," Hawke said, standing in the doorway looking at the two exhausted men. "Sorry for the break-in, but I thought you two had been murdered in your sleep. How you managed to sleep through the racket we made, I can't imagine." She strode into the room with a man trailing behind her. "There's someone you need to meet."

Anders's eyebrows rose in surprise. He got to his feet and held out his hand. "First Enchanter, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person." Lucy's Fade conjuration of the man had been very accurate.

Orsino looked surprised but held out his hand. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Ah, no. I suppose not. But do you have word of Lucy?" Anders thought a quick change in subject would prevent another awkward explanation of dream-walking.

Zevran sat up in bed looking alert.

"She was fine when I left her last night, but she needs to get out of The Gallows. Meredith is returning and I'm sure Alrik will want to cover his tracks."

"Meredith? Alrik?" Zevran got out of bed and joined them.

"Yes. Long story, but Alrik has been forcing Lucy to fight creatures and Qunari mages in a lyrium dome. He's only gotten away with it because the Knight-Commander is away. When she returns, he will certainly take steps to cover up what he has been doing."

"So, it seems the red bitch was Lucy after all," Zevran said, exchanging a look with Anders.

Hawke looked puzzled, but ignored the comment. "Can you tell us where they're keeping her?"

"Absolutely." Reaching into a sleeve of his mage's robe he pulled out a sheet of paper. He walked to the desk and spread it out revealing a map.

They went over map and Anders was grateful that Orsino came to see them. Lucy's directions had been slightly off.

"When do you plan to do it?" Orsino asked.

"Tonight," Zevran, Hawke and Anders all responded in unison.

"Good. Meredith will be back within a week. I suspect Lucy will end up dead or tranquil very soon," Orsino said. "We've had quite a few mages disappear of late. Even harrowed mages."

Hawke frowned and then turned to the Anders. "You both need to get some rest before tonight. I'll get everything ready. Several hours after sundown will be the lowest tide, Isabela tells me. Karl says that is the least dangerous time to land behind The Gallows. We'll fetch you shortly before."

Hawke and the mage left and the men went back to their beds.

"Finally," Anders said, sighing as he lay back down.

"Yes, finally. All this not knowing, not being able to do anything. I thought I was going to go mad."

There was a lengthy silence. Anders pondered what lay in store for them in the next day. If they survived and rescued Lucy, what then? They would be back to that point where this all started. Let tomorrow take care of itself. They might not even survive to see it. But no matter what happened, he'd give his life to get her out of The Gallows.

"Twitch?" Zevran's voice pulled him back from the twilight of sleep that was muddling his thoughts.

"Yeah, Antiva?"

"If we succeed tomorrow, we work this out."

Zevran's comment had no hint of a question in it. "Agreed. And if we fail?"

"If we fail, I will not be alive to concern myself."

"Neither will I. We can take it up in the Fade."

Zevran laughed quietly. "There's no escaping you, is there?"

"Afraid not," Anders said. He smiled to himself as he rolled onto his side. _Zevran is all right, _he thought as his eyes shut.

_~o~o~o~_

**Notes: **_Thanks for beta reading, Biff McLaughlin. Sorry for the lengthy time before posting this, my love-life has sprung into existence quite unexpectedly. This chapter was about ½ way done before the last chapter, but I did end up adding quite a bit and had to iron out timeline changes. _

_Always appreciate reviews, but they've been getting really skimpy lately. I worry I'm losing my touch since time to write is less. So tell me what you think. Should I hang it up? ;)_

_Zevgirl, Biff, Aynsleasa, Lady of Embers, olivegbg: Thanks for the reviews!_

_Onward we plod toward our destiny!_


	30. The Divine Ms M

_Thanks for the reviews from the last chapter. I really appreciated hearing from you: Jenna53, AndAgain, Lucy's Echos (cool name!), Lalauria, Shi, Nette, Zevgirl, Aynslesa, Biff McLaughlin, Wren Wild, rubberleg, Lady of Embers, 1ScaryLady, Xaiael, RowenPaperwhite. You all are awesome!_

_~o~o~o~_

Zevran didn't sleep the day away. He was out shopping for supplies, returning to the Hanged Man with two bags filled with ropes, string, grappling hooks, face-darkening paint, lock picks, and a pair of spare daggers. He was ready to climb the side of The Gallows. According to the map given to them by Orsino there was an external wall on Lucy's cell. It might have a small window, perhaps barred. It was another option and, just as importantly, it made him feel less helpless.

Hawke knocked quietly at their door just after sunset. "You look ready," she said as she walked in.

Anders looked vastly better than he had that morning, but both men were taut with anticipation, even though a rejuvenation spell had wiped away any residual weariness. Hawke looked equally ready. Her dark eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight. This was a woman spoiling for a fight, Zevran judged. Some thwarted need for violence simmered just below the surface, and he was fairly sure that the root of that brutal impulse was the elf, Fenris. Something about this woman reminded him, oddly enough, of Riordan. The thought sent a little pang of loss through him. Enough! He wiped away the emotion and focused on the task. Either they would succeed, or he would join Riordan in the Fade.

A sloop, the smuggler's favored craft, was waiting for them. They were eight, the Kirkwall companions Merrill, Varric, Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, and Karl, and then Zevran and Anders. Fenris looked more subdued, Zevran noted, but Hawke was continually sending sharp glances his way.

The Antivan's eyes slid over to Anders who had also successfully taken measure of the two. They shared a secretive smile. Speaking of thwarted love interests, Karl was standing at the edge of the boat, a wistful look on his face as he looked at Anders. Interesting. There was something there too. That might be a conversation for later.

"What awaits us, Karl?" Hawke asked.

"A pair of guards at the back entrance, but if we're stealthy we can avoid them entirely. The rocks that protect the coastline conceal a secret entrance."

They loaded the boat in silence and each one got on carefully. Isabela hoisted the black sail and they disappeared into the night. The ride wasn't a long one, but the winds were low and against them. The little boat had to tack back and forth to make headway.

No one was talking, including the elf, Fenris, but he was glowering again. Once Zevran caught him glaring at Anders, but he shifted his eyes away slowly, conveying his distrust and dislike of the mage. Everyone else had seemed to welcome them and sympathize with their cause. All but the elf. What would possess someone like Hawke to suffer that fractious elf's moods? Some humans—and Lucy was definitely one of them—felt guilty for the suffering of his kind. It was a trait he never understood. Lucy hadn't contributed to the oppression of elves. That might explain Hawke's abundance of tolerance, or perhaps there was something else tying these two together. The elf was handsome, and Hawke, despite her ferocity, or perhaps because of it, was also very attractive.

Ah well, this was clearly not his problem. He pushed the intrusive speculation away, submerging his doubts and fears, and quieting the circling thoughts until he was prepared. Normally the only people who saw this focused, emotionless side of him were his victims or his fellow Crows. He barely noticed the puzzled look Anders gave him. The extraneous and irrelevant were filtered out; his senses were heightened.

There, off in blackness of the night, was _something_. Its presence was only detectible because it blocked part of the night sky. As they drew closer what had seemed like stars were dimly lit windows. She was on the second floor, but which of those windows was hers?

Isabela anchored the sloop a good ways from the pier, out of sight of any guards. They lowered a dingy over the side and got in, four at a time, and ferried over to the dock, rowing as quietly as possible.

Zevran climbed up the pier first. He wrapped a grappling hook with cloth to muffle its sound. Tossing it up to the dock, he hooked it around a piling and then climbed up quickly, reaching down to take the weapons, or bags, from the others as they climbed up. Fenris stayed with the dingy and rowed back to the sloop to pick up the others. When all were finally on the pier, Karl led the way to the secret entrance, silently pointing out the location where the two guards were stationed.

The moonless night was dark and no one tripped over their feet, so the guards weren't alerted. Before the dock met the shore, they leapt down onto the rock jetty. Karl held up a hand alerting everyone to watch him. He pointed at a large boulder and walked into it.

"An illusion," Anders whispered. He followed after Karl and disappeared too.

The rest of the infiltrators followed and found themselves in a long narrow hallway, which soon split into two hallways. Karl paused and kindled a bright mage light. After searching the walls for a moment, he saw something and pointed to it. Zevran saw something that looked like it might be an intentional marking, but it was very subtle.

"Periodically I'd find a sideways V when I was wandering these tunnels. The narrow end points to the exit, so the thick end…"

"Leads to the Hero," Hawke said.

Karl nodded.

"Do you sense her yet, Anders?" Hawke asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing yet. The Gallows is a big building and we're underground."

They followed Karl who seemed to have an easier time spotting the markings. The tunnels were narrow, but surprisingly regular, as if carved out of the earth by intention, not just mages or slaves seeking to escape.

"Stop!" Anders hissed.

They were in the middle of a tunnel, distinctly headed upwards.

"What is it, Twitch?" Zevran asked.

"I feel something. I think it's her," he replied.

"Good! Which way?" Hawke said.

Anders considered for a moment. "Perpendicular. Not in the direction of this hallway."

"Perhaps there is a turn up ahead," Merrill said. They proceeded up the hallway, noting the ground was rising.

"What do you sense?" Zevran asked Anders after they walked another ten minutes.

"We're going in the wrong direction. She's getting further away," he replied tersely.

They walked on since there was no option to change their direction without back-tracking. After another quarter hour of walking and there was another pair of tunnels. One headed in the direction Anders had indicated while the other tunnel clearly had the sideways V showing the way.

"These tunnels twist and turn, Anders. It could be that we'll come around ninety degrees and you will sense her in the direction we're headed," Karl said.

"Or we could be going in the wrong direction entirely," Anders replied. "What if she isn't in her room?"

"We know where her cell is," Hawke said. "Orsino drew us a map."

Anders stopped, rubbed his forehead, and then shook his head. "No. Maker's balls! She's sensed me. I can feel her call. Damn!"

Zevran reached out a hand to reassure the mage; something had him worked up. He remembered the time Lucy and Alistair had felt Riordan's powerful call. They'd nearly battered themselves to pieces against a locked door trying to get to him. If Anders was feeling that, he'd probably stop at nothing to get to her.

Hawke looked at Anders and then down at the map Orsino had drawn her. "She might not be in her room. Orsino said they were forcing her to battle in some sort of lyrium dome."

"We should follow the map," Fenris said. "It's the best information we have."

Anders shook his head. "I'm going down this tunnel. Whoever wants to follow me can. We can't waste time on side excursions."

"Wait, amico! Give us one moment," Zevran gripped his friend's shoulder, not wanting the mage to go on until they'd had another moment to discuss it. "My friend is in the grip of an obliggo." He shook his head in frustration searching for the right word. "A geas. A magical compulsion. He is being pulled. That is the strength of a Warden's call. Trust me, I have seen this before."

"Then we need to split up," Hawke said decisively. "Karl is right. The tunnels we're following twist enough that she could very well be in her cell. I will take Karl, Fenris, and Merrill. You, Anders, Isabela and Varric follow this… geas to wherever it leads. Leave a mark for us to follow."

Anders struck out with his hand and with a focused flame scorched a dark arrow along the wall. "Will this do?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah," Hawke said. "And anyone chasing us."

Anders didn't heed Hawke's remark, Zevran noted. He could barely stand still; the compulsion to follow the Warden call was too strong. "Then pray to your Maker there aren't any templars following you, if you come after us," Zevran said.

"He's not my Maker," Hawke grumbled. "All right. If you don't find her, back track and catch up to us. If we don't find her, we'll find you." She paused a moment and looked at Varric, concern plain in her eyes. "Stay alive, will ya?" She looked at Isabela and nodded curtly. "You too, bitch. I went to a lot of trouble saving your ass already. Don't make it be for nothing."

Isabela's mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp but it was followed by a throaty laugh. "Don't worry about me, sweet-thing. You know I always land on my feet. Besides the thought of getting you in my bed again keeps me alive."

At that, Hawke blushed and turned away, leading her group to follow the subtle markings Karl pointed out. They could hear her mutter something indistinctly.

"You totally did!" Isabela shouted after her retreating figure. "And you liked it!"

"Principessa, come. Think about your next conquest later," Zevran said to Isabela. Anders had torn out of his grasp and was jogging down the hallway. Zevran sprinted to catch up to him, and he could hear Isabela and Varric trotting behind him. "Amico, slow down. We need to be careful," he said to Anders when he caught up.

A sheen of perspiration made Anders's face gleam in the mage light. He gave no indication he even heard the assassin.

"Amico!" Zevran grasped his shoulders and shoved him into the wall. "You need to master this or you'll lead us to our deaths."

The mage's eyes tore away from some sight in the distance and focused on Zevran's face. He seemed to come back to himself. "Sorry," he said. "It's powerful. I've never felt it like this. I think she's in trouble."

Zevran nodded. "All right. Stay with us here. Don't lose your head. We'll rush, but not blindly." He pointed at the wall of the tunnel. "Make your mark."

Anders took a deep breath and summoned the fire spell, leaving another smoking black arrow on the hallway.

They took off again, this time at a more careful and measured pace. Anders's agitation didn't decrease, but he mastered it. The hallways went on and on, forking every now and then. Sometimes they seemed to climb be ascending, other times they went deeper, but Anders never hesitated. Each time he chose a tunnel quickly. Zevran only hoped that they were the right ones.

_~o~o~o~_

After my night time visitation from Anders, I slept better. They're coming. They know where I am. I only hoped I managed to convey a sense of urgency about it all. Maybe Orsino had been to see them and certainly he would've told them there was no time to waste.

The day passed slowly with me reading Chantry history—as the Chantry cares to tell it. I even nodded off a few times, until there was a jarring knock on the door by a fist that really knew how to extract obedience from wood. The loud reports jarred me out a deep doze. I was confused and disoriented when Ser Alrik entered with two templars at his side. He always seemed to catch me right after I'd woken up before I could order my thoughts, my hair, or my wits.

"How're you feeling, Elissa?" he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned, but I knew his sincerity was faked. "Good enough shape for one more fight?"

After everything Orsino had told me, that remark alarmed me enough to knock away my sleep hangover. "One more," I said. "And then?" Gut knotting with a flush of fear, face burning with anger—no! I had to suppress my reaction to what I was sure was the pronouncement of my death, or something even worse. I dug my fingernails into my hand. Maintain.

"Why, you'll have more than earned your spot here amongst the mages in Kirkwall," he said. He took a step toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder to reassure me.

Revulsion. Could he feel my skin trying to crawl away from his hand? I needed to seem as clueless as he thought I was. _Help! _I reached out with my Warden sense and felt the same nothing I'd felt since the night Anders had left back in Denerim. If they didn't come, I would try to escape. Even if I died trying, it would be better than being tranquil.

"I've got a few bruises that Orsino missed last night. Could you send for him again?" I asked. Hiking up the big baggy mage robe I wore during the day, I pointed to a nasty looking one on my shin.

"That's hardly worth Orsino's time. I will send for Sister Olivia."

"No. Ow! It is really painful. I think there's a pulled muscle too." I walked around the room, limping pitifully.

"He's out of The Gallows on business. Sister Olivia will just have to attend to it," he said, frowning at me. "Why didn't you have him heal that last night?"

"I guess we just missed it," I said.

"Well fine. Get some rest. Tonight may be quite the challenge for you. Don't let me down," he said. He'd lost his reassuring manner and a threat hung suspended in the air.

Or what? You'll make me tranquil? You're an ass, Alrik.

I nodded submissively as a good, beaten-down Elissa would. Inside I was frightened and defiant. Orsino wasn't in The Gallows? Then that must mean he's seeking out the Falcon, or whoever it was he thought would know how to find Anders and Zevran.

Dear Maker, let them come tonight! I found a sudden spark of piety and addressed a god I was fairly certain didn't exist.

_~o~o~o~_

This time my nerves were stretched taut as I was walked down into the tunnels. I'd come this way enough times that I pretty much knew the path by heart. Second left after the chantry sun carved into the wall. Turn right. Forty paces and a left. Only we didn't make a left. Well, I did, but a hand clamped onto my arm and pulled me back into the hallway.

"Stay with us, mage," the templar grumbled. His voice pinged around in his helm before it spilled out, sounding like a bear in a tile bathroom.

"But we usually turn there," I said. "I'm fairly certain." I counted the paces off mentally. Yes, there were forty.

My protest yielded nothing. My templar escort didn't provide any insight into why our path had changed. Well, at least it wasn't the Hall of Tranquility. That was up on the second floor where they were keeping me. Who knows though, perhaps they were taking me to the Cave of Tranquility, or the Basement of Tranquility. Plan. Yes, make a plan, just in case.

I eyed my guards, looking for sharp corners on their armor I could cut myself on, wondering if I might snatch a blade before they could stop me. It didn't seem likely. Maybe a jagged outcropping of rock or—the thought made me shiver—I'd bite myself. One good punch from a mailed fist would probably bring some blood, if it didn't knock me out. I'd find my tainted blood somehow. Or so I told myself to keep from panicking. Why hadn't we turned?

Then we stopped and there was a black lyrium gate on the right. Inside I could see a room that looked like a metal box.

"Halt." The templar said. They seemed extra businesslike tonight.

They opened the gate and pushed me inside the metal room. Once inside they shut the gate.

"Your strangler."

I knew the drill. I backed up to the gate and tried to avoid making contact with it. I didn't want to lose my head to the black lyrium before I could figure out what was going on. I managed not to touch it, but I could still feel it prickling at my brain. The strangler fell off and lay in the sand at my feet. I don't know why, but I picked it up and jammed it in a pocket. If I were to fight another mage again, like the saarebas, it could be a useful weapon. Maker forbid they make me fight another person. I wouldn't have done it the last time, but the Qunari mage attacked relentlessly. If I'd had my strangler, maybe I could've locked it around his neck. No, too small. It was designed for a human neck. Well, a wrist then.

"Here's your weapon," one of the templar's said. The faceless man poked a staff through the gate and I took it from him.

"I'd rather have daggers," I said.

They ignored my request. "Ready yourself." Yup, they were all business tonight.

It struck me suddenly. I'd seen this box, but always from the other side of the dome. This was where they'd loaded up the demons, bronto, saarebas, and other creatures I'd fought. What did it mean that I was being loaded up like this? Maybe tranquility wasn't fate in store for me.

_My last fight_, Alrik said. No. I wouldn't be led like a lamb to slaughter. I will go down fighting. I didn't survive all the bullshit I've been through to die like this. I swished the staff through the air and began to limber up. Whatever awaited me, I was going to kick its butt.

I could hear the cheers and hollering followed by the rattling of chains pulling open the solid metal door. There, on the far side of the dome was a… girl, more properly, a woman, maybe my age—Elissa's—perhaps a bit older.

"This is a trick, right?" I spoke aloud, though no one was close enough to hear me. "She's a dragon, isn't she?" I stood at alert, waiting for the fearsome girl to transform, but she didn't. Instead, she looked at me with the same sort of confusion. Not attacking, but staring in bewilderment.

I edged into the dome, watching her warily. She was attractive, with dark hair that fell in loose waves down to her shoulders. There was something wide-open and innocent about her. She'd be the last person I'd expect to transform into a dragon, which meant, of course, that she was certainly a dragon. I wouldn't let her pleasant looks disarm me.

"Hello," she said. "I think they're expecting us to kill one another." She had to shout a little to be heard over the cheering crowd.

"Yes," I said. "If you're a dragon, know this. I've killed dragons." Yes, I had. But never alone. I cursed myself for the little tremor in my voice.

"A dragon?" she laughed bitterly. "No, I'm no dragon. Although I kind of wish I were at the moment." She walked across the dome and held her hand out to me. "I'm just a mage at the circle. A free one until a couple of years ago."

I hesitated, but shook her hand. Desire demon, maybe. A very subtle one. "I'm Lucy."

"Ladies!" Alrik's stern voice broke into our introductions. "You're here to fight, not have tea!" Striding to the cage, hand resting on his sheathed sword, he said, "Fight you will, else there be a double Rite of Tranquility this night."

The mage and I exchanged glances. "No," I said softly. I wasn't going to fight her. Nor was I going down without a fight. There might be two dozen templars out there, but there were only two at the door where I'd entered and long, twisting corridors that would be easier to hold.

The dark-haired mage shook her head and echoed my words. "No."

Ser Alrik heard our replies and purpled. Veins bulged at his temples and I could practically hear capillaries popping like corn. "Reconsider carefully, my ladies. One of you could walk away from this." The words oozed out of his mouth calmly but the threat underlined and italicized each one.

"Your word is shit," I hissed. "The archdemon couldn't produce as much excrement as comes from your mouth." I lunged forward and grabbed the black lyrium. It fueled me, feeding my anger a superb first course of vitriol.

"Then your struggles end tonight, Elissa. One way or the other."

He pulled his sword and jammed it at me, through the cables. I peeled off to the side and his blade missed, of course. "Thank you, Ser Asswipe." I ran my hand along the sharpened length of his sword, cutting myself.

I could hear the dark-haired mage's gasp even over the gasps from the audience.

"Blood mage!"

"Maleficar! Stop her!"

And all the rest of the predictable responses from the indoctrinated masses.

"It isn't what you think it is!" Grabbing her hand we ran to the metal-bound box I'd emerged from. I could feel her half pulling away from me, but she wanted to escape too. I think she decided her chances were better with me than a whacked beehive full of templars.

The two templars who had deposited me in the cage had stupidly come inside to see what the ruckus was about. Now they were running for the door and the one on the right was just reaching for the handle. I dropped her hand knowing I'd have to Fade step to catch him before he got the door open.

"Deal with the one on the left!" I shouted at her, hoping she could. For all I knew this mage might specialize in healing or alchemy.

"I've got him!" she yelled, but I was too busy opening the Fade and stepping in to respond. Everything slowed, but me, as usual, and then I was on the templar, delivering what I'm sure must have been a fatal blow to his head. I stepped out of the Fade and saw that the girl was just now casting her spell. I was ready to deal with her templar if necessary, but a blast of ice caught him and a particularly nasty icicle pierced his neck. He fell to his knees struggling to breathe. I was relieved my new ally knew some useful spells, but how long would spells help us in this nest of templars?

As we got to the door I realized that even one templar with a well-aimed smite could ruin our escape. The only cure for it was to disarm. No mana meant they couldn't do much too us. I grabbed my strangler out of my pocket and fastened it around my neck. Then I tore another strangler from one of the downed templar and handed it to the girl.

"Can you fight with that staff?" I asked.

She grinned at me. "Oh yeah. My sister taught me more than a few moves."

"Good! Put this on and we'll do it the old fashioned way. No mana and the templars can't smite us."

She took the anti-magic collar and, though she still looked wary, obeyed. "All right. Just don't… don't become a demon. Okay?"

"I promise," I said.

"Where do we go?" she asked.

I shrugged. I'd love to have had time to think it over, but templars were now inside the dome and running our way. I'm sure more were coming toward us down the hall. "We have to close that gate." I ran to the winch that held open the gate and removed the iron bar that kept the gate open. It started to close slowly at first, but then slammed shut just before the crowd of templars got to us.

"That's the way I came from," I said pointing down the hall. "We should go the other way." I had no more than said it when I heard clanking armor from that direction.

"Run!" the girl said.

"Right behind you. Go!"

What first seemed like a desperate attempt now felt doomed. Should I bother to try? Oh why not? As long as I still lived, there was hope. As we fled down the hall I extended my Warden sensing abilities to their limit, certain there would be nothing. I was ready for the despair I would feel at the failure. I could stop here, make my final stand, and let the girl get away. Danny will be fine. More than fine. My death could count for something. At worst, I'd reduce the templar population some. I was ready to stop and tell the girl to go on when I felt something. No, some_one_! Anders. "Fucking Maker!" I shouted. "He's here!"

The girl stopped and looked at me with confusion and distrust in her eyes. "Who?"

"A Grey Warden. A… friend." I stopped a moment and blasted my call out. I knew there was no way Anders would miss it. He would know it was me and I was alive. If they were going to my cell, I was sure they could never get to us in time. "Maker, find us, Anders!"

The sound of the tin infantry was fading behind us and the hallway stretched on. When it forked, I took a random turning. We ran until the sound of pounding feet was lost and then we paused a moment. The other mage leaned against a wall, bent forward, hands on her knees, while I scanned the length of the tunnel before us and behind us.

"Who are you?" she asked, between labored gasps for air. "Are you a blood mage?"

"Lucy, a Grey Warden from Ferelden. I'm not a blood mage, in the usual sense. It is Grey Warden magic." A little obfuscation would have to serve as truth. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Bethany Hawke," she said. "If you're a Grey Warden then why are you…"

Her sentence was broken by the sound of running coming from the direction we'd been headed.

"We're cut off!" she cried.

"The tunnel ahead narrows. We'll make our stand there." Perhaps we'd lost the templars behind us and we wouldn't be caught between the two groups.

Dashing a short way up the tunnel, it narrowed enough for us to stand back-to-back and engage one person at a time from either direction. Bethany was still gasping from our run. I wasn't tired, but the rage from the black lyrium was wearing off. Just as well. Now that I knew rescue was possible, I didn't want to do anything stupid. I pulled off my strangler for a moment, drawing mana from my lyrium necklace to replenish my depleted stores, and I cast a rejuvenation spell on each of us. Bethany gave me another puzzled look. "Look, if we survive this, I'll answer your questions." Fastening the collar around my neck I tried to prepare myself.

"They're here!" Bethany pointed down the hall and I could see a few templars headed in our direction.

I heaved a tense sigh. Maker willing, we'd take them. "Watch the other corridor. I'll handle these." I reached out to sense Anders and I could still feel him. Nearer, I think, but perhaps it was wishful thinking. _I hope you brought a small army, Anders._

Bethany looked pale and a little frightened, but the woman had a steel spine. She'd give it her all. We stood back to back as the templars approached us warily. The one in the lead held up his hand, palm facing me. Ready to smite us, I assumed, but he didn't. Maybe he could see it was futile; we were wearing our stranglers.

As they drew closer I could see who it was: a lanky, awkward-looking redhead. Oh great. Sullen Cullen. Why hadn't I just put him out of his mage-hating misery back at Ferelden's circle? Regrets collided with anger and I whirled my staff in front of me threateningly. "I killed an archdemon, Cullen. You think you're a challenge?"

He halted outside of striking distance and lowered his hand. What he did next stunned me worse than a smite; he turned his back to me.

"Turn around, men. There are no apostates here," he said.

I could only gawp in disbelief. The four templars he was leading could clearly see us. I even recognized Burt and Ernie.

"What're you talking about?" Burt said, pointing at us. "They're right there!"

Ernie and Cullen exchanged a look. "No they're not," Ernie said. "The Knight-Captain said turn around." He put a hand on his sword and Cullen did too.

There was a moment of low murmuring. They were too far away to hear the discussion but I could hear it heating. Then it broke into raised voices and Burt drew his weapon. Cullen was faster, though. He stabbed the other templar before his sword ever fully left its sheath. I saw Burt sink down. Whether he died or not, I didn't know.

_I'm sorry, Cullen. _That was all I could think of. I am sorry I ever thought you were a complete ass. I learned, yet again, that people could be redeemed. Maybe not everyone… but damn, Cullen? Ernie drew his weapon too and the two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking the way to us.

"Anyone else here _think_ they see apostates?" Cullen said. "I see a hero. A woman who ended the Blight and saved people I know and care about."

"I see a hero, Knight-Captain," Ernie said to Cullen. "What do you see Minsky?"

"Um… a hero?" came the timid response.

"Pylo?" Cullen said.

"Definitely a hero, sir. No apostates here."

"All right." Cullen turned back to face us. "Hero, Lady Hawke. If you don't mind. We're looking for some escapees, have you seen them?"

I shook my head slowly, still feeling stunned at Cullen's gesture. "No I haven't seen anyone. Yourselves excluded. We are, um," I hesitated, "We seem to be lost here. Where is the nearest exit?"

Cullen shrugged. "These tunnels were built during the time of the Tevinter's occupation. Some believe there are secret entrances and exits, but if there are the templar's don't know them. I'm afraid I can't help you. However, if we can pass you by, we'll be sure to tell any others that we've thoroughly searched this passage."

"Absolutely," I said softly, still shocked.

"Thank you, Cullen." Bethany squeezed by me and put her hand on Cullen's shoulder. "Be safe, my friend." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, lingering a little longer than just a friendly buss.

He took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. "Get out of here, my lady. I'll do my best to misdirect the search."

_Well!_ It seemed there was a little somethin'-somethin' going on between these two. I counted myself fortunate especially since the last time I'd seen Cullen he'd been ashamed of my mage status. Maybe he knew the futility of my position and was waiting for an opportunity to help, or perhaps the attractive brunette with me was the inspiration behind his chivalry. Whatever. I was thankful, regardless.

"Thank you, Cullen." I pressed myself against the tunnel wall and let his group of templars pass us. "Thanks, Ernie." I gave him a smile as he met my eyes.

He nodded in response. "Be safe, Hero." He unsheathed a pair of daggers he had strapped to his hips and gave them to me. "I know you prefer these. Take them."

They were good blades. I dropped the staff and took them. "Thanks. Stay out of trouble, my friend."

Bethany and I exchanged a look as they walked down the hall. "Are you always this lucky?" I asked her.

"Not a chance. Are you?"

"I've had a good run so far, but I'm not holding my breath."

"Me neither. Let's get out of here!"

We took off jogging in the direction Cullen's group had come from. By now we had both lost all sense of direction and had no idea where the lyrium dome was. I kept sensing Anders and followed the faint, but definitely detectable sense of direction his presence gave me. I also "called" to him with everything I had. It was a prayer I sent winging to him. _Feel me! Find me! _

I could've kicked myself for not spending the time with Anders, training him to use the call. Like me, he hadn't had any initial aptitude for it. But I—with practice and incessant goading by Riordan—had learned. It would've made locating him much easier. Now I could only hold out hope that he could locate me.

I stopped suddenly and tried to figure out what direction his faint presence was emanating from.

"What is it?" Bethany asked. She looked behind us nervously. "Why have we stopped?"

"I'm trying to figure out what direction to take. I can feel the taint but it almost seems behind us now. I think we have to backtrack."

Her face tightened at my words. "And the templars are back there somewhere. Maybe by now they've got my phylactery."

Phylactery! I'd completely forgotten that they took blood from mages to track them. That they'd never bothered to take mine was more proof that I was never meant to join them. "No, I doubt it. They wouldn't store the vials here, would they? It'd be too tempting a target for mages to destroy." Truthfully, I had no idea, but I didn't want her to give up.

She shrugged and set her jaw. I could see a stubborn streak a mile wide on her. "Well, odds are we aren't going to make it anyway, but I intend to do whatever I can to get out of here. Let's go!"

Her courage heartened me. We turned around and jogged back the way we'd come. My stamina from the tainted-blood magic had trailed off and I was beginning to fatigue. Stopping, I ripped off my strangler, taking another moment to draw mana from the lyrium necklace. I cast two new rejuvenations and felt bolstered by the surge of energy. There would be hell to pay once this spell wore off if I couldn't refresh it. The look Bethany gave me told me she knew it too.

I could feel Anders's taint growing stronger and now it was to our right. Leading us to the next fork, we turned right and hastened down the tunnel. This time though we turned a corner and found ourselves blocked by a door. Bethany and I both pressed our ears against it and listened. We heard nothing so very cautiously opened it.

It was a room, an old, forgotten storage room by the looks. There were decaying crates piled up, barrels, and piles of moldering fabrics that might have once been clothes. But it was a dead-end all the same.

We could hide in here and hope that Anders found us before the templars, but if they did get Bethany's phylactery, that didn't seem promising. "Let's go back," I said. "We'll take the next turn leading in that direction."

She nodded, following me as I turned around and made for the door. Another run down the hallway and then a turn and finally—finally!—I could feel Anders ahead of me and stronger than ever. Just a short ways more!

"They're close," I told Bethany.

"Good!" she said. "I can't believe there's a chance we can escape. Something's gotta go wrong. It always does."

And so it did. We rounded a little twist in the tunnel and came face to face with Ser Alrik.

"See what I mean?" Bethany said, panic rising in her voice.

"Kill them!" Alrik bellowed, pointing at me in particular.

"Kill them!" I yelled at the same time, leaping backwards and was narrowly missed by a sword jabbed at my middle. I recklessly sliced open my hand on my dagger and drew from the tainted blood magic. Fatigue fell away.

There wasn't time to organize a defense, we just had to fight and try not to hurt each other in the narrow tunnel. I was grateful for the daggers Ernie had given me, they were far easier to use in that narrow place. Bethany was more limited in what she could do; jabbing and swinging overhead or underhanded, her staff caught more than one templar in the balls.

I ducked as a great axe sliced the air where my neck had been and then clanged into the side of the tunnel. While stooped, I saw a mailed fist punch Bethany in the jaw and she flew backwards with the force. I couldn't spare any more time looking at her. I lashed out with a flying kick at the man who had punched her and he staggered backward into the templars behind him, causing a chain reaction of stumbling.

Then I was fighting two at a time and one of them was trying to flank me. So far, I'd kept out of reach of their weapons, but sooner or later they'd figure out how to work together and then I wasn't sure I could stop them.

I saw an opening and took it, jabbing one attack in the throat with a dagger, but the other one sliced my arm. The wound bled copiously making it harder to hang onto my dagger as the blood slicked my hands. But on the bright side, I needed the blood for Warden magic. Just not quite this much blood coming so quickly.

More kept coming as they fell. Or when one tired another was there to replace them. I couldn't look away for even a second to see Bethany. She was either incapacitated or had fled. I hoped it was the later. I gave ground slowly but it wasn't long before a tentative shift of my foot felt something behind me. Bethany. She hadn't fled and was either dead or unconscious behind me.

_I'm doing my best, Anders, but you really need to hurry it up. _I redoubled my Warden call, blasting it like a trumpet.

"Bethany, you've got to get up and run!" I yelled at her, not knowing if she could even hear me. It seemed that this would be, finally, my very last stand. My heart wrenched with grief. To die so close to being saved was more painful than the wound in my arm.

_~o~o~o~_

The Warden call grabbed his brain and shook it like a cat shakes a rat, trying to break its neck. But this time it was intense and focused, like a burning beam of light, and it came from straight ahead. He stumbled, his senses overwhelmed with urgency. This was basic, primal, a need that bypassed all reason. She must be found and joined. He was _called_.

"Amico!" Zevran reached out and grabbed a shoulder to try to steady him.

"Maker, if I had that kind of pull on a man…" Isabela said, sending a lewd smile to Varric.

"Let's hope such a thing never comes to pass, Rivaini," Varric said. "Hey, is Blondie all right?"

"Me?" Zevran said, turning to the archer. "Never better. Anders senses Lucy. She's very close. Be ready."

Barely aware of the assassin, Anders pushed himself from the wall and continued his jog down the hall. It wasn't far until they heard the sound of battle. Only Zevran's grip kept him from rushing forward, straight into whatever was there, around the next corner.

"Steady now, Anders. She is here, yes? Let us take them by surprise."

His answering nod was terse, but the words had registered. "All right. What do we do?"

"Isabela and I will go up behind them and see what forces they have. We'll report back." The look he gave Anders was worried. "Stay, my friend."

"We'll be fine," Varric said.

Anders felt a meaty, strong hand grasp his forearm. "Eh, Blondie?"

"Fine." The word was like grit, rasping from a throat that wanted to scream a battle cry. Truly his fingers were twitching to cast a spell. He would have thought was funny in other circumstances, given Zevran's nickname for him, but this night the humor was lost on him. His fingers wanted blood.

_~o~o~o~_

The pair of sneaks crept quietly around the corner, peering down a lengthy corridor before proceeding further.

"Looks bad, Zev," Isabela whispered, her hands resting on her weapons, deceptively relaxed. "More than a dozen I'd say. Do you see your lady friend?"

He shook his head. "No, but I trust Anders. We can flank them and draw some off of her. If we surprise them, we might knock out at least four of them quickly."

"You and I could do two easily. The old grab and slash should work."

Zevran knew the reference. One of them—Isabela, because she was taller—would grab one by the top of his helm and pull his head back, exposing the throat. Then it was a matter of a quick slash or thrust under the jaw. They could certainly take two before the rest were aware.

"Varric is quick with the bow. He could go next and take out two more. Is Blondie any good?" Isabela's eyebrow quirked and something lascivious sparkled in her eyes.

"The best, princessa. Ah, you mean as a mage? Yes, although his forte is healing."

They turned and headed back to the waiting companions, explaining the plan. Zevran wasn't convinced Anders had heard much of it, but Varric was ready. They quietly moved into place and executed everything as planned, until it was Anders's turn. He cried out loudly, vocalizing frustration painted by anguish. It was as if he were trying to say "I am here" but words, it seemed, had disappeared in favor of more basic forms of communications.

Whatever had twisted his locution into a wordless roar had certainly conveyed their arrival to the small sea of templars in front of them. Half of those who remained turned, and half of them were momentarily frozen by an immense ice spell cast by the wordless, yet noisy, mage.

"We are flanked!" someone yelled from within the herd of templars.

"Anders!"

That voice Zevran recognized. Lucia lived. The numbers did not favor them, but at least they weren't sandwiched like the templars.

"Keep fighting, cara!" Zevran shouted, hoping she could hear him. "We will slice through these like soft cheese!" It was more of a wish than certainty. Words meant to cheer her. There were close to a dozen templars and Anders would be rendered helpless soon.

Even as a contingent of templars broke away and came to face them, Anders was felled with a smite. He stood, but was hit again. This time the force knocked him against a wall and he didn't rise.

_~o~o~o~_

Karl led Hawke through the tunnels easily. The marks were perfect if you but knew where to find them. It wasn't long before they reached stairs and were confronted by a pair of templars standing guard.

"Champion?" one said. "You're not allowed here. How did you get in?" The templar sounded confused behind his metal helm.

"I'm here because you're holding a citizen of Ferelden unlawfully. I demand she be released immediately!" Hawke's drew her vicious-looking daggers and waited for resistance.

"Uh. Who?" the templar asked.

"Elissa Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden. Release her at once or there will be consequences."

"Um." The templar fidgeted nervously. "I can't release anyone without orders, ma'am."

Fenris pushed past her elbow, his hands glowing an ominous blue. "I suggest you let us pass. The Champion is feeling a might out-of-sorts today."

The templar gestured with his hand to show that they should pass, and so they did. Cautiously. However, just as soon as they were down the hall they heard one of the templars running. Someone would be coming soon, she knew it.

They picked up speed, racing up the stairs and finding the next set of stairs. These too were guarded. This time the templars weren't cowed and the infiltrators had to neutralize them.

Fenris's hands were stained red and a quivering heart lay on top of the plate armor of one templar.

"That's just disgusting," Hawke complained. "Why can't you use your weapon?"

"Do you see any room for me to swing a great axe in here?" Fenris said, wiping his hands on a templar's robe.

"You should get a smaller weapon for close quarters work," she replied. His fondness for displaying his lyrium-enhanced strength meant he used enormous weapons. He wielded them well, but they were impractical sometimes. They'd had this discussion before and he stubbornly refused to give in.

"You didn't complain about the size of my weapon in close quarters before," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She held her tongue but growled at him, picking her way past the dead templars. They didn't meet any further resistance until they came to the Hero's room. A cluster of templars blocked the door, but most were looking within the room.

Hawke heard a familiar strident female voice. "Have you finally lost your mind, Orsino? There's no one here. This cell looks no different than it did when I left two months ago."

_Meredith. _She was back from her trip to Orlais.

"She _was _here. I swear it."

Hawke recognized Orsino's voice. It seemed the Warden mage was right, she wasn't in her cell. Pushing aside the templars standing at the door, she strode into the room. "Where is she, Meredith?"

The Knight-Commander whirled. "Hawke! What is the meaning of this? How did you get in here?"

"I'm here because your templars kidnapped the Hero of Ferelden," Hawke replied. She realized how odd that was going to sound so she improvised. "The Crown asked me to look into the matter. And, in doing so, avoid a larger…much larger, diplomatic problem."

Meredith shrugged, spreading her hands. "Do you see anyone here? I think someone is spreading a vicious rumor. There's nothing to back up this crazy allegation." She set her chin stubbornly and looked down her nose at Hawke.

"They're forcing her to fight in the lyrium dome," Orsino said. "I saw her here, covered in blood and injured from her fights. Twice I healed her."

Meredith snorted with contempt. "A lyrium dome? More insane fabrication. Hawke, I'm placing you and your companions under arrest for breaking into the Gallows. I warn you, if any of my templars have been harmed—"

There was a blur at the corner of Hawke's vision. Fenris had made a sudden movement. His hand plunged through the nearest templar's chest. "Oh Maker no, Fenris!" she cried out. Leave it to him to take a bad situation and make it worse.

The look he shot her was poisonous, but his features recomposed and he spoke in a low, threatening tone. "My hand is wrapped around your heart, templar. One squeeze and your life ends. Tell us where the lyrium dome is and confirm that the Hero of Ferelden has been fighting there."

Meredith seemed about to lunge at him, but she checked herself. "Hawke! Call off your… elf creature."

"Yes!" the templar burst out. "Yes, she was here! Ser Alrik has her fighting in the lyrium dome."

"What?" Meredith turned to the templar. "Where the hell is this lyrium dome?"

"It…it was found in the tunnels beneath the Gallows, Knight-Commander. Please!" He couldn't suppress a sob of relief as Fenris withdrew his bloody hand.

"Take us there, immediately!" Meredith said. "Maker, I leave for a few weeks and look what happens. The next time the Divine wants to see me she can damn well come here."

The look Hawke shot Fenris was contrite. He'd pulled it off. The little nut-case had pulled it off. For a moment Hawke felt a little of the old longing she'd once had for the elf, but only for a moment.

"We're coming with you," Hawke said. "I want to be certain my report to the Ferelden Crown commends your fair treatment of the hero." The small hairs on her arms nearly burnt off from the withering glare Meredith turned on her.

"Breaking into the Gallows, spying for Ferelden, and Maker knows what else. Don't imagine I will let you out of my sight, Hawke," Meredith said.

Hawke wondered what the Knight-Commander would do when they found the dead templars on the way back, but, most fortuitously, they took a different route.

_~o~o~o~_

Not a single inch to give. Bethany's prostate form lay behind me, hemming me in. To take that step back was to kill her, leaving her to the templars, if she wasn't already dead. I couldn't do it. No more running from death. That was a refreshing change, wasn't it? I was too busy to dwell on it while I battled two more templars standing side-by-side. Their elbows awkwardly hindered one another and the string of oaths from the pair was impressive for clergymen. There was no room for them to swing their large Chantry-issue swords, so they were reduced to clumsy thrusts. Timed-well and coordinated, I'd be doomed, but they were not used to fighting in close quarters like this. Still, I was tiring from blood loss. The tainted blood-magic couldn't keep pace with the dripping of my wound. My arms were feeling leaden, especially the injured one.

Then there was _something_ up there behind the press of templars ahead of me.

"We are flanked!"

I recognized Ser Alrik's voice and I felt Anders closer than ever. "Anders!" I screamed, hoping he would hear me. _Come on. Keep going!_ I ordered myself, but I had no idea how much longer I would last. I couldn't see beyond what seemed like a sea of templars. I dropped my Warden call. It would do no good now and would be a distraction for Anders he didn't need.

"Keep fighting, cara! We will slice through these like soft cheese."

Zevran's voice rang out over the sound of metal on metal. It heartened me giving my arm strength. Good that. The two templars fell back, giving way to another. Ser Alrik!

"Surrender, you'll never leave here alive. I will be merciful," he said.

"I know your brand of mercy, Ser Asswipe."

"Then die here, slowly," he said. "Bleed to death or succumb to my sword in your belly."

He chopped at me, his attack strong and fresh. I managed to block it, but I felt it take a toll on my remaining strength.

"Know that when I do run you through, mage, I will twist this sword and watch your guts spill out on the ground." He kept up a running description of all the unpleasant things that would happen to me.

_Zevran hurry._ I could hear growing noise from the rear of the templar pack, but I couldn't take my eyes away from Alrik to see how close they were.

_And this is why I said training in archery is useless, Lucia. It always comes down to this, mano-a-mano. Now remember what I trained you to do._

In my exhaustion, I could practically hear Zevran scolding as he often did when we trained.

_Look for the weakness. Tsk, tsk! The man's stance, cara, off-balance. Terrible. Remember what I said about the armor the templars wear._

Yes, he did look off-balance. Those skirts hide a weakness in their amour, the groin was poorly covered.

The next chop came, every bit as forceful and fast as the first one. I moved out of the way, not trying to block, but into him. It was an unexpected action, as was my hand thrusting up, under his skirt. It was an epic groping, or would've been if there hadn't been a wicked blade in my hand. I drove it hard into the gap between his armor, plunging it into what I hoped was the femoral artery, or his testicles.

Whatever I hit it was soft and squishy. I could hear Zevran cheering in my fatigue fogged mind. _Brava, mia bella dea mortale._ The templar looked at me, stunned surprise written on his face in a bold italic font.

"No," he gasped. He tottered a little, gratifyingly letting go of his large sword. Then he fell backward into the press of templars behind him.

"Ser Alrik is down!" Someone shouted.

I stumbled backward just a bit, my feet encountering Bethany's form again. Can't take any steps back. I had no choice but to wait until someone took Alrik's place.

_Daccapo, mia cara. _

"I can't do it again," I whispered. My arm felt like a tree trunk. I had nothing left.

_You must. _Zevran argued with me in my mind. I braced myself against the wall, ready to raise my weapons once more.

"Stop!"

A loud, female voice, like a drill sergeant's or a high school gym instructor's, pierced through the fog of my exhaustion. I couldn't turn my back on these templars to see whether that order was directed at me or whether it applied to everyone.

"I said stop!" The voice was louder and even more piercing. The templars stopped fighting and whoever they were fighting down the hall stopped too. I thought it might be safe to turn around. I let go of the wall and turned slowly.

"Bethany!" another woman shouted and ran to my accomplice, squatting beside her.

"Oh god. Not more damn templars," I muttered. The woman with the imperious lungs was dressed as one. Then the tunnel began to sway and my vision narrowed. I sank slowly to my knees, hoping she didn't think I was performing some sort of obeisance, but just after my knees hit the floor, I stopped thinking of anything at all.

_~o~o~o~_

Luckily Orsino was a skilled healer. Not as good as him, but good enough when it counted. Anders gently caressed Lucy's brow and realized how close he had come to losing her. They had to stop doing this.

He'd been hit with more smites than he had ever been hit with. It had knocked him against the wall and he had been unconscious the entire fight. Karl had seen to him and assisted Orsino with Lucy.

"How's she doing this morning?" Hawke asked as she strode into the guest room of her Hightown manor.

"She woke up in the night and talked a little, but has been asleep since then." He looked at the sleeping woman with concern. She was gaunt and her skin was still too pale, but for the dark smudges under her eyes.

Merrill bustled into the room holding a cup carefully. "She needs stinging nettle tea. Get this into her. It rebuilds the blood."

"I can hold her up, Twitch," Zevran volunteered. He carefully pulled her slumbering body up from the bed and nestled her into his chest. She stirred against him and muttered something.

"Do you want to?" Merrill asked, holding the cup out to Anders. "I think it is so sweet her husbands are taking such good care of her. Polyandry is so underrated, don't you think?"

Anders looked at Zevran and shrugged. He had no idea what polyandry was. Something he would certainly have looked up if he had a Circle library at hand. He began carefully spooning the tea into Lucy's mouth. The Dalish mage might be an annoying chatterbox, but she really knew her herbalism and alchemy.

He was heartened by the little movement in her face as she wrinkled her nose. With the next spoonful she shuddered but swallowed. The following one and her entire face scrunched up.

"All right, missy. I know you're awake. Open those peepers," Anders commanded.

"No," Lucy replied. Her voice was throaty and hoarse, but her stubborn refusal rang clear.

"Why not? Don't you want to see my handsome face, and the Antivan is here as well."

"You're just another dream. I'll open my eyes and you won't be there."

Zevran shot him an amused glance. "Cara, it isn't a dream. Do I need to pinch you?"

"You've pinched me in dreams before," she retorted. "I don't want any more of that nasty stuff."

"Now think, my dear commander, have you ever tasted anything this bad in your dreams?" Anders said, spooning another helping into her grimacing mouth.

"Not that I recall," she said.

"So there you see? It isn't a dream. Open your eyes, my love," Anders said. He kissed her gently on the forehead trying to reassure her.

"Dammit, if this is another dream and I wake up back in that cell, I'm blaming you, Anders!" The stubborn resolution strengthened her voice.

"I'll gladly shoulder the blame, sweety."

She slowly opened one eye and fixed its gaze on his hand. The second eye opened just as cautiously. Then her gaze lifted ever so gradually, fearfully, but the lines between her brows increased as her head lifted.

"Maker," she breathed. Then she swiveled her head and gasped loudly when she saw Zevran. "I didn't wake up, did I? It's one of those dreams within a dream. Then you wake up for real and find out it was all a dream, even the waking up. Well, the first one anyway."

"Cara, you're not dreaming," Zevran insisted.

"Sweetheart. All those dreams are over. We can start living our lives again," Anders added.

She looked between the two men and burst into tears. "You're desire demons! Damn good ones. If I believe you then there's a Sword of Mercy slicing through my neck. Be gone foul spirits!"

Merrill looked sadly at the woman in the bed. "Perhaps you should go. It might take some time for her to understand."

Anders handed the cup of tea to Merrill and waited for Zevran to settle her back onto the bed, propping her up with pillows and speaking in a low, soft voice, murmuring something in Antivan. They walked out of the room together, both of them looking somber.

As the door shut behind them Anders turned to Zevran and gripped his shoulder. "She's been through a lot, Twitch."

"Yeah, she has," Anders said. The Antivan looked worried, as worried as he felt. The templars could be right royal bastards. Rape, torture, enslavement by tranquility, all mages knew the stories. Only time would tell what she'd been through and whether or not she would ever fully recovered.

"She's tough though. She got through the Blight," Anders said.

"True, but she had us. This time she was on her own."

Anders slowly nodded and realized that this could be a whole lot worse. And it was all his fault. If he hadn't left, none of this would have happened.

_~o~o~o~_

I spent a day convinced I was stuck in the Fade somehow. Strange people kept coming to my room and talking to me. One was a woman named Hawke. She said she was the sister of Bethany and she explained what had happened after I passed out.

It seems that the imperious woman templar who had put an end to the fight was the Knight-Commander, Meredith, the very person whose return had guaranteed that I'd be silenced, one way or another, very soon. Apparently she'd arrived back in Kirkwall earlier than anyone anticipated. I probably survived because of her, but it was only through Hawke's facile mendacity that the lot of us weren't imprisoned. She had concocted a tale that the Ferelden Crown had sent her to find me and if she didn't report back there would be dire consequences.

"I told her Ferelden's army is still mobilized from the Blight," Hawke said, chuckling and rubbing the back of her neck. "Then I said that Teyrn Loghain pointed out the very narrow sea separating the two countries." Hawke grinned at me. "I could see her calculating how quickly she could raise an army of her own." She gave a loud, snorting laugh. "As if. There are city guards and templars. Beyond that she'd have to enlist the aid of other city-states and by that time she could kiss her ass and the city goodbye. I didn't even have to point that out to her."

"That's some impressive prevaricating," I said. Mulling it over, I'd never seen such talented desire demons. Was I really in the Fade? "What happened to Bethany?"

"She is being held pending a trial for the death of all the templars we killed." Her face sobered. "They needed a scapegoat."

"No! Fuck that!" I said, forgetting my theory of being in the Fade. Adding a subtle tragic element like that had to be beyond the abilities of Fade spirits. Only the corporeal could be so cruel. I struggled to sit up and nearly fell over from dizziness, but my rage was lit. "Get me clothes!" I ordered.

Hawke looked at me in surprise. "What are you going to…"

"The right damn thing. I'm taking your sister out of there. Can you get me in to see the Knight-Commander?"

"Yes. It shouldn't be an issue, but are you well enough?" she asked.

"I'll be fine." A lie. The world was spinning as I put my feet on the floor.

Hawke disappeared and Anders and Zevran returned.

"Cara!"

"Lucy, get back into bed. You're far from ready to get up," Anders scolded me.

I looked at them and felt dizzy not just from blood loss, but from love. "I'm sorry I thought you were desire demons. I was confused."

"Of course, cara," Zevran said. He rushed to my side and tried to get me to lie down again, but I pushed him away.

"I need clothes. I can't go confront the Knight-Commander in my smalls."

"No," Anders said. "You're not leaving this room until you stop looking as pale as the bed linens."

"We're not having this argument." I saw his stubbornness and raised him an ornery. "Hit me with a 'juv and I'll be fine."

"Absolutely…"

"That was an order, recruit!" That one took a lot out of me and I nearly passed out. Fortunately Hawke walked in with clothes and looked every bit as determined as I wanted to look, but couldn't muster the strength for.

"Cara, Anders is right," Zevran said.

"I'll call for a litter," Hawke said sensibly. "No sense in you trying to walk."

"What in Oblivion are you doing, Lucy?" Anders asked as Hawke left the room. "Trying to get yourself thrown back into the Gallows?"

"That will not happen while I breathe," Zevran said.

"I'm going to conscript Bethany, Hawke's sister. She fought by my side as we tried to escape and they're trying to blame everything on her to save face."

Anders shook his head sadly. "There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?"

"No way, my love." I reached out and took his hand, stroking it gently. "Just this one last thing then I want to get the hell out of this place. All right?"

The guys tenderly and carefully helped me dress. All my physical hurts were healed, but I was weak as a kitten from blood loss. A rejuvenation spell helped and Zevran carried me to the litter and got me seated. I was a ragdoll, but a determined one.

_~o~o~o~_

Meredith released Bethany to me. Hawke's clever lies stood me in good stead. She feared retribution from Ferelden, but she also kicked us out of Kirkwall.

"Be gone by sunset tomorrow!" she said, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"Gladly," I said, hoping my glower was as good as hers. "If your templars ever kidnap another Ferelden citizen—"

"Out!" She flung out her arm and pointed to the door. If her nostrils had flared any larger, I feared one of us might be hoovered up into them.

We left and I was littered back to the Hanged Man—great name for dive in Kirkwall. Our passage was booked in short order and we sailed out the next morning.

Bethany and Hawke cried over each other. I cried too, with relief. I promised my rescuers they could come visit any time.

The trip was short and smooth and I rested with two men solicitously attending to me. There was relief, love, affection, and through it all an unresolved and building tension. My thoughts were focused to returning to Danny and wondering how he had fared in the time I was gone—a month, I discovered. I was a mother so I also did the Mom thing and worried. What if something had happened to my boy? Who had taken care of him? Would he remember me?

When the ship finally docked at Denerim someone took a look at my face and gasped. He took off at a run. "The Hero is back!" he cried.

"Should I stop him?" Zevran offered.

I could already see a spell forming in Anders's hand.

"No, although I'm sure we'll be hearing from Loghain or Alistair very shortly. Let's go to the compound. I need to see Danny."

I felt like I'd been away a lifetime. The stink of Denerim assaulted my nostrils just like it did the first time I walked into the city. There were familiar faces and an assortment of smiles. I was greeted happily by nearly everyone.

"Welcome back, Hero!"

"Good to see you, Lady."

"Warden-Commander, please come by for a meal as soon as you're able. On the house, of course."

Murmuring and nodding, I barely heard them. My feet went ever faster as we neared the compound, my fear and yearning growing with every step. What if something had happened to my son? I was trembling as I reached for the door handle. I knew immediately that something was off, and when I found the doorknob didn't give under my hand I knew what it was. No one was in the compound.

I nearly screamed. All my fears crested like a massive wave and crashed down on me. Blood drained from my face and both Anders and Zevran looked at me in alarm. "No one is here." I whispered the words, afraid that anything else would unleash the lurking scream.

"They may have taken him somewhere, cara. Somewhere safe. Do not panic," Zevran said.

"Fergus got him!" I grasped my throat wishing I could throttle the thought out of myself.

Pounding hooves clattered down the cobblestone road leading to the compound. A hulking figure cantered to us. _Loghain._ I took that much in until I realized he had something strapped to him. A pale, little figure with dark hair was harnessed to Loghain's chest. It bounced, shrieked, and laughed with the jolting gait of the horse.

"Danny!" This time the scream did emerge, but it was a shout of relief and joy. I was home. Blessed Maker, _I was home!_ My boy was all right and hitched to Loghain's chest, looking as pleased as could be. The tears streamed down my face and I laughed. Never had so many competing emotions assaulted me at one time.

I found my emotional control later. Nothing could keep me from taking my son and reacquainting myself with his smell, his delightful appendages, babbling enthusiasm, and fascination with my hair. The external emotions were stuffed back under control although I shook for hours. The compound was reopened and the staff and Danny moved back in from the palace where they'd lived for the last month.

There was still the lurking figure of Loghain haunting the compound and he promised me he wouldn't leave until I could explain why I had abandoned my son for a month.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Lucy."

"I know, Loghain. I know. Just—I need some time. I will come see you tomorrow."

"You will."

Yup. That was Loghain. I had certainly missed him as well.

Zevran and Anders walked with him back to the palace, most likely filling him in on the events of the past month. I let the housekeeper settle Bethany into a room while I took Danny to the Warden-Commander's room. We sat on the enormous bed and I talked while he babbled.

"You have your daddy's eyes, you know?" I whispered to him as my own eyes began to flutter shut. The last vision I had was of my son's eyes looking into mine and in that moment between sleeping and wakefulness I knew I'd heal from this last month's traumatic events. I had Zevran, Anders, Danny, my royal friends, Loghain, and I think even Riordan, who was assisting by calling in metaphysical favors.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__Woo hoo! This chapter was huge, as you now know. I've been working on it forever, or so it seems. Very happy to have it done and in front of your eyeballs. My special thanks to Biff and Zevgirl for beta-reading this weighty installment, and for their comments when I post bits and pieces on G+. _

_Here we are, nearly at the end of the story. The details of DA2 are a bit sketchy in my mind, hopefully I didn't take too many liberties. However, I will remind any sticklers that this is an AU (Alternate Universe), however if you've read this far, chances are you know that. ;)_

_This story took a lot of twists and turns I never anticipated, and we've ended up in Brazil when I set out for Japan. You can either blame my sense of direction or my sense of adventure._

_BTW: If you haven't read "Tea with Bethany" you might want to. These two stories are somewhat related, especially now that Bethany has been recruited into the Wardens. I could definitely see Doria returning to Ferelden to be with her sister. _

_I will love you long time if you press that button down below and submit a review. It makes me feel loved. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	31. The Suppuration of Church and State

_Thank you: Ana, Jenna53, akasoeki, Aynslesa, 1ScaryLady, zevgirl (woot!), Shi, Biff McLaughlin (woot!), Arsinoe, rubberleg, olivebg, ShadowDmn – Appreciated the reviews! You guys are awesome._

"His life is forfeit!" Loghain thundered, stomping from one end of the room to the other, after Zevran and Anders accounted for Lucy's disappearance. "I should've put down that mad dog in Amaranthine. I can marshal my forces and lay siege to his teyrn within a week. That lunatic rat bastard will pay!"

Zevran rubbed his thumb along his chin, considering. "Ser, if I can be so bold as to counsel another course. Such an action is expensive and could lead to a long siege. If the Teyrn still has enough favor with other nobles, it could lead to a bloody civil war. Allow me to handle the problem. It is, after all, my specialty. Discrete removal of annoyances." He bowed with a courtly flourish.

Loghain stopped pacing and frowned at the elf. "Yes, I remember the last time I hired you to remove an annoyance. You failed. Miserably."

"True, that," the elf admitted. "Though even you must admit my failure worked to everyone's advantage."

"Especially your own," Loghain muttered darkly.

The assassin contained a chuckle. The generalissimo harbored some jealousy it would seem. It wouldn't do to provoke him too much.

"My lord," Anders said. "Zevran is right. It would be a simple matter for me to infiltrate the castle in Highever and give him access. I've learned to transform into a bird, like Lucy."

Loghain stopped his pacing suddenly and seated himself. He turned his iron gaze on the elf. "You're right… Zevran." He said the elf's name like it would choke him. "But I still don't trust you. I'm going as well. Besides, I personally want to strangle him with his own intestines."

"Oh?" Zevran said, picking at a piece of imaginary dirt under his fingernails. "You wish to give him a quick death then? I was planning something far more painful."

"I thought boiling the blood in his veins might do," Anders said. "Very painful, judging by how the darkspawn respond to it."

The older man going with them would be a complication. Even Anders might have been more of a hindrance than a help if it weren't for his ability to transform. But Loghain? The thought irritated Zevran. "Ser, the need for stealth…"

Loghain rose from his chair and stared down at the assassin. Zevran felt several feet shorter than he truly was as the man's weighty presence seemed to press him into the floor.

"I was sneaking through woods shooting Orlesians while you were still suckling at your mother's teat, elf," Loghain said.

Zevran doubted that. Oh, not that the general had stalked Orlesians, but that he had still been a babe. There was probably only a decade of difference between their ages. Still, it was apparent that Loghain couldn't be dissuaded, at least not by him.

"Lucy and Danny will move into the palace where Alistair can keep an eye on them. I'll have my own personal guard watching her. She'll be safe," Loghain said. He strode to the door and opened it for the two men. "We leave at dawn. Be ready."

"You tell her," Anders said as they walked back to the Warden compound.

"Why me? Do you think that just because I'm a cold-blooded killer I have no feelings?" Zevran protested.

Anders chuckled. "No, I think she likes you better than me. Besides I caused all this."

"Nonsense, my friend. You didn't cause this, Fergus did."

They walked along together, neither speaking, but the gravel crunched under their boots. With one hand on the handle to the compound's entrance, Anders relented. "We'll both tell her. She will understand, won't she?"

Zevran shrugged. "You never know."

_~o~o~o~_

It couldn't have been worse. Not if she'd gotten mad and hurled bolts of lightning at them. She simply sat on the floor, holding Danny, and looked between them with sad, dark eyes. Saying nothing, she looked away with a sigh and hugged her son closely.

"Say something, my love," Anders said. "I need a reaction."

"Cara, please. We don't want to go, of course, but something has to be done."

"I know," she said, her voice small. "Danny will never be safe as long as he lives."

Zevran sat down on the floor on one side of her, Anders on the other, and they both encircled her and Danny with their arms.

Her voice sounded even smaller coming from within the huddle. "Will you at least make sure it hurts a lot?"

"Of that you can rest assured," Zevran said.

"Oh yes, my sweet," Anders said. "Sex magic has a darker side I never discussed with you. Yet another reason why it is banned. A Fineger's bolt, amplified many times over, is a sort of pain that rides the nerve yet doesn't cause harm."

"I don't want to hear about it," Lucy said. "I trust you both. Don't—for Maker's sake—get caught!"

"We'll be careful, but thorough, mia cara."

Dawn came and with one last backward glance, Zevran and Anders left a despondent Lucy standing in the doorway of the compound. She carried Danny, reluctant to let go of him ever since she came home.

"So, tell me about this sex magic, Twitch," Zevran said.

_~o~o~o~_

Alistair walked in without even knocking. Why not? He was still a Warden, at heart if not in practice. There was something about seeing his sweet boyish face that finally knocked me out of my depression.

"Maker, Lucy, you had us all terrified." He settled himself at the kitchen table, no differently than when he'd been a Warden. Only this time the kitchen staff was petrified. They suddenly became all thumbs and managed to break several dishes and even spill tea into his lap.

"I have that effect on people nowadays," he said, frowning. "Don't worry, I've got it." He took the cloth from the cook and mopped up the tea from his doublet.

"I'm sorry, Alistair." Whether for the spilled tea, or my disappearance, it didn't matter.

"It's all right, Lucy. But you need to come to the palace until this is sorted out."

I opened my mouth, ready to protest, but my sensibility kicked in. "Of course."

"Well, good! I was hoping you wouldn't be stubborn about it. Besides, Danny and Calenhad are best of friends. Well, until one takes a toy from the other then someone has to step in and stop the squalling."

"All right. I can pack up our things and be there this afternoon." I wasn't looking forward to all the work of packing my stuff up and getting it loaded into a cart.

"Ha!" Alistair laughed at me. "There are some advantages to our positions, Lucy. Let someone else do it. Just pick up Danny and walk back to the palace with me right now. Anora put someone in charge of moving you in. It'll get done."

So I did. But the moment we walked out the front door together, a squad of Alistair's personal guards formed around us and we walked in the center of the small parade. I'd been around Zevran too long to feel safe. A sniper on top of a building could pick me off. Or we could step on a cleverly hidden rune trap. As I mentally listed all the ways we could die on the short walk to the palace, I knew I would never feel safe again until Fergus was gone.

Brows furrowing, Alistair watched me. "I've never seen you like this, Lucy. You're scared, aren't you?"

I nodded. "I have too many secrets that can be used against me. Now that I've been inside a Circle as an inmate, I never want to be in one again."

"You won't be."

"You can't guarantee that. Anyone who knows my secret—and let's face it, there are more than a few people who do—can do what Fergus did. How can you and Anora protect me from a Chantry that will just wait until I'm alone, or unguarded, and then take me?"

"You won't be unguarded. I promise."

I followed Alistair compliantly, but a nugget of something had taken root in my brain. It was the belief that my secret abilities were my Achilles heel. Anyone who knew of them could control me. I did what I could to push it out of my mind and listened to Alistair's happy chatter about Calenhad.

He took me to the nursery, a place Danny had become familiar with. "Caldad!" he cried when he saw the royal heir. He turned into an eel in my arms and I couldn't set him down fast enough to suit him. He ran to his friend and they either embraced or grappled, I couldn't quite tell, and fell over in a pile of giggles.

The nugget of uncertainty quieted as Alistair and I watched the boys play with one another. We chatted, bragging about our children, and teased one another, just like old times.

Danny and I settled into palace life quickly while the royal couple kept me busy attending fancy luncheons and state dinners. When I wasn't doing that I took Calenhad and Danny for walks through the gardens, or out to see the horses and mabari, all with a guard detail following us. Each time I turned around and saw the metal glinting in the sunlight of my guard's armor, I thought of the secret that necessitated this. That damnable secret.

I was pleased to see how many of my composting toilets were installed in the palace and it was heaven to have one in my quarters. I decided that Orsino and Hawke would get toilets as rewards for helping me. I'd put Hawke in charge of ensuring that the mages got the toilet and not the templars.

My factory, which I visited daily, was bustling. Sandal had improved the magical bacteria even further. Now, not only did they break down waste material incredibly fast, but they gave off a pleasant smell, reminiscent of jasmine, too. An even odder development was that he had taken to saying "Composting!" in exactly the same manner he used to talk about enchantments. The dwarves were getting wealthy from their stake in the factory and when my elven accountant went over my own personal accounts, I nearly fainted. I was getting rich.

Toward the end of the week Anora took me aside.

"I have to show you something. It was going to be a surprise, but I think under the circumstances surprises might not be a good idea." She led me to an area screened off by a high fence, one I'd seen workmen disappearing into during my stay. We paused just outside the fence.

"The second anniversary of the ending of the Blight is coming," she said. "Last year we couldn't really celebrate since we were spending so much money recovering, but this year we are having a week of festivities. There will be archery contests, riding expositions, music—I'd even like to have your toilets on display as the technological and magical marvels that they are, and perhaps put some to good use as well."

"Of course. We can set them up in place of the standard privies. I'm sure that will be popular. Sandal's new magical bacterium can keep up with the output from many people. Just think! The fertilizer the event will produce will go a long ways toward increasing agricultural output." I went deep into the geek place, getting caught up in excitement over excrement.

"Yes, of course," Anora said, eyeing me warily. "Well, there's something else, too. Follow me."

I followed her around the tall fence and stopped to marvel at a pair of stone statues. I gasped as I recognized Riordan. His likeness was remarkable, especially for someone who had probably never even had a portrait painted. Tears sprung to my eyes and for a minute I wanted to climb up, reach out and trace his cheekbones with my hand.

"How did you manage to… That is him, Anora. That is truly him!" Granted his pose was ridiculously heroic, but it captured him.

"Alistair isn't bad at drawing. He was able to sketch drawings for the sculptor and you—well, everyone knows what you look like."

I looked at the second statue blankly. That was me? I was holding a giant sword in both hands, tip pointing to the ground as if I were about to plunge it into something. My hair was blown back in the wind and there was a fierce look on my stone face. My statue's ample bosom practically heaved its way out of splint mail corset, something I can swear I've never worn.

"I must never been seen standing next to this statue," I said. "The comparison will fail. She's a whole lot more… epic than I am. Don't get me wrong, I love it and I'm flattered. The statue of Riordan is amazing, but…"

Anora laughed. "It is done in the heroic style. Trust me, all those statues of Andraste probably look nothing like her."

"Well, it is a grand gesture and I'm extremely flattered, though my heart may break every time I see Riordan standing there."

"I'm glad you like them," Anora said. She put an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her side. "You will be giving a speech at the unveiling."

My breath caught in my lungs. A speech? "What?" The way she said it, I knew there was no negotiating with her.

"A speech, of course. The people will want to hear from their hero. Don't worry, I will write it for you if you'd like."

Oh, Maker. I'd almost rather face the archdemon again than have to make some sort of speech. "I, uh, well. Of course. I guess there is plenty of time to prepare."

"Oh yes, you'll be wonderful," Anora assured me.

I devoted half my mind to attending to her chatter and answering her, but the other half was preoccupied with this speech. What sort of idiotic drivel would I regurgitate to make people happy? I guessed it was something that Loghain might instruct me on. I was beginning to share his dislike of the title hero.

I took quill to paper that very night and began working on the task, hating myself as I wrote the sort of thing that was expected: nationalistic fervor, reassuring platitudes, words about rebuilding stronger than ever. It made me queasy but helped me pass the time without worrying about the trio resolving my issue with Fergus.

_~o~o~o~_

Loghain watched the crow fly into an open window. The elf lounged against a tree, idly cleaning his fingernails with the edge of his dagger. The fool would undoubtedly cut himself and then Lucy would blame him when the assassin died of a blood infection. There was nothing to do now but wait for the mage to unlock the side door. Nothing to do, that is, but to ponder how the elf managed to survive a war of assassins. Bloody impossible, even if the elf was impressively stealthy and lethal, as the half dozen dead guards behind them could attest to, if they weren't so… dead.

He'd been wearing heavy armor for too long. Those skills of his youth he'd boasted about were long gone, but he had wisely recognized that and let the elf take the lead. Still, with the mage flitting about as one sort of crow, and the elf yet another kind, he had his part to play.

The door whisked open and Anders, the human, charged out. "Be ready," he hissed. "I picked up at least one." The mage feathered himself once again and flew into the trees.

"Left," Loghain said, claiming whatever was on the left that came through the door, his voice quiet but loud enough for the elf to hear.

Only one came. A guard. He peeked around the door cautiously, saw nothing, and then stepped out fully, scanning the area. Loghain, from within the shadows of the light woods, unloosed an arrow. It took him full in the throat. A second arrow came from a dozen yards away and impaled an eye. A quick, silent death, just as they'd all been.

Loghain emerged from the copse and dragged him back to the shadows. He began to strip off the guard's armor and replace his own with it.

"A perfect fit, no?" Zevran said. "Good eye, Twitch. Remind me to take you next time I need to get fitted for armor."

"It was the first guard I ran into. Just lucky, I guess," Anders said.

"Let's get on with it. Cousland is drawing on the same air I am and that has to change," Loghain growled. He strode confidently to the side door and held it open for the other two. The elf hung back in the shadows and the mage followed at a distance, cautiously creeping forward. He drew down the visor on the helm and strode confidently through the cast like a guard on his rounds. The family quarters were on the second floor. He had visited this castle before and knew it well.

"Hail," he said, his voice emerging as a mumble from within his helm as he passed another guard.

"Hail?" the other guard said as Loghain walked past. "Hey Seamus, what's with the helm? You're new and all, but we don't walk around with it down."

Loghain said nothing and continued walking. The guard, now on alert went after him.

"Seamus, I said…" He reached out to grab Loghain's shoulder and then creaked to a halt and crumbled to the floor. His splint mail armor rattled noisily as he dropped.

"Dead?" Loghain asked the mage as he approached.

"Sleeping. No need to cause any extra death here," Anders said.

"We can't just leave him out here. Someone is bound to notice," Zevran said, emerging from the shadows.

"Pull him in that room. I think it's a storage closet," Loghain said, pointing at a door.

Zevran and Anders each grabbed a leg and hauled the unconscious guard along the hall, his metal-clad back scraping the stone floor loudly.

"You should carry him, you're going to alert the entire castle," Loghain grumbled.

"A guard in full armor?" Anders sputtered. "You carry him!"

"That wouldn't look at all suspicious, would it?" Loghain retorted sarcastically.

"Perhaps it would be best if we just put him in this room and be done with it, yes? Ungh!" Zevran grunted as the finally got the inert guard to the door. Loghain opened the door and was suddenly reminded that, in fact, this was the kitchen. The two elven servants dropped their cleaning buckets and froze, eyes wide with fright.

"We come in peace," Anders said. "Well, for you, anyway."

"Oh for the Maker's sake, mage, handle it." Loghain's order was gruff, as usual.

Anders's sleep spell put them out and they crumpled to the floor.

"We're going to have half the castle in a sleep spell, if we keep this up," Anders muttered.

"Just as well. It is midnight and the other half is sleeping. Let's hope they stay that way," Loghain said.

Zevran hoped so too. This definitely wasn't his preferred way to work. He could've entered the second floor by a window and the Cousland would already be in the fifth stage of lanthrax poisoning. But death was a complicated business. Sometimes murder was the easy part, the harder mission was satisfying the secondary requirements: a humiliating death, a slow death, or a death with an audience—all needless complications, really, but part of the package. As a Crow, he had cultivated the patience needed to deal with such requirements, but as a man, his patience knew limits. His feigned deference to Loghain was wearing thin.

Two more guards were dispatched to dreamland and then at last they were at the Teyrn's bedroom door.

Locked bedroom door.

"I trust you can—" Logain began to say.

"Of course," Zevran said, cutting in before the great lord could add the thinly veiled insult to the sentence. If he heard that sneering tone of voice one more time, he might just add another target to his kill list this night.

Zevran pulled a pick out of a pocket and crouched before the door. "I am a Crow," he muttered. "Trained to walk through walls as if they didn't exist. This dog lord is a trifle. His lock is…_pfft_! It is smoke I blow away."

_Crack! _The pick broke in the lock and a piece tinkled to the ground.

No one moved or spoke. Not even Loghain made mockery of the error. The noise had been loud in the quiet of the castle, would Fergus hear it? Perhaps it was simply so quiet that the relatively small noise was loud by comparison. There was an answering groan from inside the room.

The trio waited for several minutes and no more noises issued from the Teyrn's bedroom.

Carefully picking the broken pick out of the lock, Zevran began working on it again. He could see the expression on Loghain's face, a suspicious look. Sweat sprung up on the back of his neck. _Loghain thinks I'm a fraud. _Of course. A famed Crow who fails, then supposedly fights the entire Crow establishment in Antiva and remarkably returns. Now this.

For the life of him he couldn't figure out why it mattered. He shoved it to the back of his mind and concentrated on the lock. All right, locks didn't open _that_ easily for him. He usually delegated the lock picking to a junior Crow. Still…

The lock finally opened with a loud click and they all held their breath and waited to hear if Cousland stirred inside. Nothing. He pushed the door open slowly, holding his breath against creaking. It was well-oiled. A lord's door generally was so when servants entered they wouldn't wake him.

Zevran's first sense was the overwhelming smell of brandy and unwashed human. He shot glances at his companions and saw the same look of repugnance he was sure he wore. Gesturing at Loghain to close the door, he silently padded to the bed and saw the Teyrn passed out there with an empty bottle of Antivan brandy still in his hand.

Zevran moved quickly, tying a gag around his mouth and then lacing his hands together behind Fergus's back. The unconscious man never even woke up.

"He's dead drunk. Soon to be just dead," Zevran said.

"This won't be very satisfying if he isn't awake for his own slow, painful death," Loghain said.

"Not to worry, lanthrax would wake the dead to die all over again," Zevran said. He got out a small ornate bottle and looked at the other two men.

"Whoa there, Antiva," Anders said putting a hand on his wrist. "We haven't decided how he's going to die yet."

"I told you I was going to strangle him with his intestines," Loghain growled.

"Too messy," Zevran protested. "They'll rupture and the smell will kill us as well. It is one of those deaths that sounds better than it really is."

The unconscious man stirred and his eyes opened. He blinked hard, holding his lids closed for a long moment and then opened them again. He stared first at Zevran, then Loghain. At that a muffled yell erupted from behind the gag.

"Good morning, Fergus," Loghain said, dryly. "We were just discussing how to kill you."

"The choices on the table are death by strangulation with your own bowels," Zevran said, ticking it off his fingers.

The teyrn's eyes opened wide in terror, and he shrieked behind the gag while trying to squirm off the bed.

"I know," Zevran said. "I tried telling him how messy it is. My magical associate prefers to boil your blood right in your veins." He ticked the second option off his fingers. "Personally, I'm partial to lanthrax. It is a messy death too, but decidedly slow, painful, and humiliating. A shame we'll have to keep you gagged. I'd enjoy hearing you plead for death to release you."

"You're not giving him a choice, are you?" Loghain asked.

"No, of course not. We are the aggrieved parties. It is for us to decide. Perhaps we should've had Lucy decide it for us…"

Fergus gave a startled jerk on the bed at the mention of her name.

Loghain leaned in to him, his face inches from his fellow teyrn's. He gripped Fergus by the hair and met his eyes with a fierce expression. "What? You didn't know she escaped and returned to Denerim? Maybe if you put down the drink and attended to your affairs you would've known."

"We can't spend the rest of the night arguing over how to kill him," Anders said. "Why don't we play rock-parchment-knife? First person to win two games gets to decide."

Loghain glowered, but let go of Fergus and nodded. Zevran acquiesced as well.

After winning two games of rock-parchment-knife, Zevran uncorked his ornate bottle of lanthrax and made two long cuts down the arms of the soon-to-be late Teryn Fergus Cousland.

"Now observe, gentlemen, the seven stages of lanthrax poisoning. Draw up chairs. This will take quite some time." He carefully poured the poison over the cuts, and they all watched as Fergus began to sweat copiously.

Justice. Sweet, sweet justice. Not one of the three men were disappointed with what they had accomplished that night as the blistered, suppurating, convulsing body of the last true Cousland took one last agonized breath and then breathed no more.

_~o~o~o~_

Three abreast and trotting down Calenhad Way toward the palace was how I first saw them. A medieval Mod Squad. My eyes were glued to them as they dismounted and jogged up the stairs to the entrance. My avenging angels were home, and I felt a giant weight lift. This was over, behind us. We could go on now, putting this episode far behind us, and I would heal from the cankers it had left on my psyche.

I ran down the stairs like the girl left behind always did in the movies. A crazy panoply of emotions seized me and I laughed while I boo-hoo'd. Hugging and squeezing them, I almost thought that once again the desire demons were tormenting me. _No, this is real, _I reminded myself.

Not once during the celebratory dinner that night did any mention of their mission pass the trio's lips. Only the returning men, Anora, Alistair and I knew of their task. I never knew what became of my "brother" until much later when rumors of a crazy, murderous blood-mage made their way to Denerim. The gruesome details eventually found my ears and I couldn't help but feel sorrow for the man and his sister. Flemeth's meddling had done this, put me here on this world and ruined the lives of those two people so completely. I suppose some of the blame could be given to Rendon Howe. What he had done to the Cousland family might have been the catalyst, but then my possession of his sister had finally taken the last of the Cousland scion's mind. So I felt pity, until I thought of his threats against my son.

I got over it.

_~o~o~o~_

_**Notes: **__My humble apologies to those who love Fergus. I do too, actually. But I had a lot of fun bending him to my evil whims. _

_My thanks to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading! Well here we are another chapter closer to the end. Let me take another opportunity to thank you for reading it, especially those of you have left me reviews. It is such a cheerful thing to find those reviews in my inbox. So, please press that review button._


	32. The Spawn-O-Matic 5000

_**Notes: **__Wow! Sorry this took so long. I blame my trip to Gencom, a gaming convention, and other things my life threw at me, and playing more Hearthstone than writing. Sorry, sorry, sorry! One more chapter to go and perhaps I will follow up with some one-shots, so if you haven't subscribed to alerts about stuff I publish, you might miss new Lucy stories. _

_Anyway, without further ado, the penultimate chapter—Okay, slight aside first. I once thought penultimate meant something grander than ultimate. Tee hee!_

**The Spawn-O-Matic 5000**

The door closed with a snick that echoed in my oversized room. At the end of the celebratory dinner, they gave us three rooms at the palace. It was late and cold. Safer to stay than walk through dark, cold Denerim. Besides Danny was sound asleep in the nursery. Of course, no one knew of the complicated situation and why the three people going to their beds would find them so desolate. Except Loghain. Had that been a hint of schadenfreude on his face as the three of us trudged up the staircase? I would've responded rudely, but Alistair and Anora were also watching us. At least they were blissfully ignorant of my complex situation.

So at the top of those stairs I went to my room, Zevran to his, and Anders to another. A guard watching over the hallway made it unlikely that we could visit one another's rooms without interesting rumors sprouting up the next day. Even if the guard hadn't been there, nothing had been resolved. For all I knew, Anders might take off again. What had happened while I'd been trapped in Kirkwall? I had no idea. Had anything been discussed or resolved between them?

I leaned against the door and banged my head against it softly in frustration. Something had to be done, but it seemed tonight wouldn't be the time.

_~o~o~o~_

Zevran hadn't missed the sorrow on Lucy's face as they'd each gone to their own room. Anders had seen it too and the two men exchanged a glance. There was much still unsaid between them. And there was the promise they'd exchanged, _"If we succeed tomorrow, we work this out."_ Their success came as a surprise and the issue had been avoided on the return trip from Kirkwall and the few days since then.

_There was no time_, he thought. Immediately on their return, they'd hunted down Fergus and Loghain was always on hand.

The door shut behind Zevran and he changed into darker clothes.

What do you say to your wife's lover, the man who became a friend over the last month? There had been some flirtatious moments, things said in jest, but with a kernel of truth. It was an awkward state of affairs. He was the smooth talker, always with the right line, the phrase said in just the right way to dissolve small clothes. Social lubricant, if you will.

He shook his head, frustrated by his inability to see a clear path, or the perfect thing to say. There was nothing to do but hope inspiration would strike. He climbed out the bedroom window and carefully eased himself along the narrow ledge leading to Anders's room.

_~o~o~o~_

"What exactly has changed?" Anders asked the fireplace as he paced in front of it. "Everything is precisely the way it was before I left. " He paused, staring at the flames, and then huffed in annoyance. "And whose fault is that? I certainly could've, at any time, admitted to Zevran that I'd found him disturbingly hot as Daniella and that didn't stop when he turned into a bloke."

He paced again, following a track back and forth in front of the flames. Then stopped and put a hand onto the back of his neck and shook his head slowly.

"We're all idiots. That's the only explanation." He shrugged as he addressed the largest burning log. "Proud, stupid idiots. I should march over to his room and we can finally have this out. No! Better yet, fly over." He turned to the window and hesitated, then turned back to the fire.

"And say what exactly? Pardon me, Ser Crow, I just wanted to suggest a way to resolve this dilemma. If we all could just, um… No, that's not it. All right. Well, if he were a woman, I'd probably go over there with a bottle of fine booze, compliment her on her hair, settle in a bit closer—you know how it goes—move in for the kiss. Easy. Mastered that by age fifteen. But he's a damn assassin and probably knows all the moves anyway."

The fire fluttered in response to a breeze, one that wrapped around his neck and sent a cold shivering through him. He whirled about, finding the object of his monologue climbing into his window. Maker's bits! Had he heard him talking to himself?

"Ah, good. You're awake still. I thought we might have a little chat," Zevran said.

There was something about the way he said _little chat_ that made him shiver. "Not like the little chat you had with Fergus, I hope?"

Zevran chuckled as he shut the window. "Do you think I'd do that to you, Twitch? After all this time? I've had more than enough opportunity, if that was my inclination." He turned and walked the short distance across the room, his pace slow but confident.

"All right. What is your inclination then? It does seem we have a matter still unresolved."

Zevran halted a few feet short of Anders. "My inclinations? They are fluid. I never expected to live as long as I have, so I take my pleasures where I can. Or did."

Anders watched Zevran's face, normally composed in a careful mask of nonchalance or killing intensity, twist into a puzzled frown.

"But it seems these days I have little taste for sampling a buffet filled with exotic foods," the elf continued. "The meal I most crave is the one I have every day."

"Are we talking about what I think we're talking about?" Anders asked. "Not food, right?"

Zevran took another step, now well within Anders space. Dangerously close. "Not food."

If Zevran didn't want to kill him, there was some other reason the assassin was drawing so close. Funny how difficult it is to see moves taken right out of your own playbook and used on you. It wasn't until he was practically nose-to-nose with Anders, eyes narrowed, hand woven into hair, and Zevran's lips hard on his that he recognized the maneuver as the "dangerous man ploy". It worked really well on the ladies. And, as he was now finding out, it worked on men too.

_~o~o~o~_

That was odd. I'd been waiting an hour, fully expecting someone to infiltrate my bedroom. Letting my décolletage air out in anticipation of some frisky business, I'd popped open a few buttons down the front of my dress. I poured two glasses of wine and waited, wondering which of my lovers would defy propriety and warm my bed. I was betting on Anders. He'd given me some really steamy looks over dinner, but then again, Zevran's hand had been planted on my thigh under the supper table.

Could they have simply been too exhausted from their mission and simply gone to bed and fallen asleep?

Inconceivable!

What if Zevran, attempting to sneak to my window, had slipped? I jumped to my feet and rushed to the window. Examining the ledge, I carefully opened the window, not wanting to dislodge him if he were out there.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Anders was good enough at shape shifting now; he could've flown to my window. The more I thought about it, the more I worried. Maybe an eagle got him? Were there even eagles in Ferelden? Something had to be wrong.

No. Waiting patiently like a good girl was out. I would check on them both and find out why they weren't here. Feathering up, I flew out of the open window, landing on the ledge of Zevran's window. It was open so I flew in and, dropping the spell, looked around the room. Not here. Oh Maker, now what? It wasn't fair! I hadn't survived the Gallows just to end up losing Zevran now. This couldn't happen.

Flying back out the window I headed to Anders's room. His window was closed so I rapped on it with my beak like a woodpecker. I could see a reflection of a dying fire flickering in the room and then something, or someone, stirred and a form got out of the bed and peered at the window. Zevran?

He came to the window and threw it open. Nude? I fluttered into the room and stood on the floor, cocking an eyeball at him, and quorked. It was a summary of my confusion and curiosity. Why was he sleeping in Anders's room? I fluttered up onto the bed and looked at Anders. He was looking tousled and had a silly grin on his face.

"Cara, I can explain, but please resume your own divine form. I feel silly talking to a bird," Zevran said.

Anders sat up in bed, his chest bare as he rose from of the covers.

I lost the feathers and stood rooted to the floor. What was this? The two men I loved. Had they found each other and forgotten me? My brain felt frozen, numb. I couldn't process a coherent thought.

"I uh… am I interrupting?" I said trying to cover my awkwardness with politeness.

Anders shook his head. "No you're just in time, I should think. Round two was about to begin."

My mouth gaped. My lovers were lovers. A pang of jealousy shot through me. What had gone on during the month I'd been gone? Maybe they preferred each other. I'd be a third wheel.

"I see," I said quietly. "I'll go. I didn't mean to…" My voice trailed off and I walked to the window, my heart felt like a lump of cold lead in my chest. As I reached out for the window, a pair of hands wrapped around my upper arms, stopping me.

"Cara, you are not permitted to leave."

That voice was like a velvet vice. Soft and hard. Unyielding, clamping me firmly into place. His mouth was planted next to my ear, breath hot. "We found two-thirds of a solution to a problem."

Anders got out of bed. "You're the missing piece, Lucy." He stood in front of me, naked as Zevran was.

"Solution?" I whispered. My mind felt like a block of ice that was just beginning to melt. There was an emotional war raging within me that was so perplexing I couldn't figure out what I should feel. Jealousy jousted with anger. Fear and doubt went mano a mano. Sadness and anticipation were dueling with pistols.

"Yes. You're always telling Danny to share his toys with Calenhad. Adults have to share too," Anders said.

Zevran's hands slipped from my arms to my waist and he pulled me into him, grinding his hips against my backside. I felt how hard he was against me and that lit up the sexual center in my brain—which some argue is actually my entire brain. Another emotion wheeled onto the battlefield and it was wielding a big fucking gun: desire.

The battle ended when, wedged between Anders and Zevran, clothes fell off my body and I was kissed by one, then the other, so hard I forgot how to breathe. This was like it was before, with Riordan, only entirely different. They had a month's worth of worry and anxiety to deal with. Every touch reassured them that I was here, alive, and still loved them both. While I managed to forget the last month and remember that I was alive and everything was now finally exactly as it should be. Well… more or less. Nothing is every perfect.

Almost nothing is perfect. In the afterglow of a thermonuclear orgasm, I decided that almost perfect was pretty damn perfect.

_~o~o~o~_

A fortnight before the second celebration of the ending of the Blight, the Dalish elf, Merrill, and her friend Doria Hawke, came to Ferelden. Doria was reunited with her sister and begged to join the Wardens. I broke the code of the Wardens and explained the risks up front. She didn't care. Ordinarily I'd have sent her to Nathaniel, but I owed the woman my life, so Anders and I performed the ceremony. She came through with flying colors. I took her to the palace and introduced her around.

"Who is _that?_" Hawke whispered to me as we walked into a room filled with nobles. She tilted her head in the direction of Loghain.

Just as she seemed to be drawn to him, he also turned around and looked at her, sensing her Warden blood, no doubt. He scowled at her, just as he had scowled at me the first day we met in Ostagar, in a way that made me love him a little. I could see her drawing herself up, meeting his scowl with one of her own. It was ferocity meeting fierceness. I could practically see little sparks flying as their eyes narrowed and met.

"Teyrn Loghain, the Hero of River Dane, and a dear friend," I said quietly. "Don't be put off by his manner. He's rude to everyone until he decides he likes you, and then he is slightly less rude. Would you like an introduction?"

She barely took note of my words, but it didn't matter. Loghain strode over to us. I held my breath for a moment, unsure whether they'd attack each other. Was this love at first sight, or hate? How do you tell with people like these?

"You've made another Grey Warden, I see," he said. "Is this the woman from the Free Marches? Hawke, is it? I've heard of you." He nodded at her curtly.

"Doria Hawke," I said. "I owe her my life. She wished to join the Grey Wardens, so how could I say no?"

"Indeed," Loghain said. "We all thank you for your service."

"The chantry overstepped their bounds once again," she said. "I was a citizen of Kirkwall, but in my heart I never left Ferelden. I couldn't let a countrywoman be kidnapped by power-mad templars. I owed my country of birth that much."

I could almost swear that Loghain smiled. "Will you be staying in Ferelden now that you've joined the Grey Wardens?"

"I intend to. I will go to Amaranthine and make myself useful."

Loghain snorted. "Howe can wait. I would like a full report on Kirkwall and, in particular, the Chantry. What you know could be very useful. Dinner. Tomorrow night. In my private library." He nodded to me, then turned on his heel and strode away.

I was grinning like an idiot. He _liked _her! Well, if that didn't beat all. I'd had dinner in that private library myself. That devil.

"Is he always that terse?" Hawke said.

"Terse? That was an eloquent moment for the man. Congratulations, he likes you."

She smiled at me and I could see the beginnings of a blush on her cheek. Perhaps the feeling was mutual.

_~o~o~o~_

The celebration of the end of the Blight arrived far sooner than I would have liked. When it came time to give my speech, Zevran insisted on observing from a rooftop to look for assassins. I saw him and exchanged a nod with him, discretely. Wouldn't want to tip off any assassins. After that, I doubted he looked at me again. He was too busy scanning the crowd.

Anora and Alistair jointly undraped the statues of the heroes while I feigned surprise. The crowd roared their approval, and then turned their eyes to the one remaining Blight hero. Me.

"Gentlepeople of Ferelden," I nodded to the crowd. My eyes found a few familiar faces: Ser Landry who had once challenged me to a duel, the former horse master for Rendon Howe, Teagan and his wife—pregnant once again—some of the elves in the Alienage I'd come to know.

"Your Majesties," I said, nodding to the royal couple and their entourage. Alistair was holding his boy's hand as he stood unsteadily next to his dad. My own son was with the royal nanny and standing with the couple.

"Momma!" I heard Danny's little voice pipe over the hushed crowd. I turned toward him and blinked away the tears of pride that little greeting brought to my eyes.

"And Danny," I said, tipping my head to him. The crowd reacted with a gust of laughter.

"It seems we find ourselves, two years since the end of the Blight, thanking the Maker for our good fortune, and remembering those who are not here with us to celebrate." I turned to the statue of Riordan and paused for a moment. I would never stop missing him.

"Let us always remember them, the brave men and women who stood up to the most fearsome thing any of us will ever see. Let us remember who stood on the top of Fort Drakon and battled darkspawn: Valiant warriors from all over Ferelden, the unrivaled archers of the Dalish, the utterly fearless and daring Dwarves of the Legion of the Dead, the mages of the Circle Tower, the unarmed elves of the Alienage who picked up arms of those who fell and fought with us, your King, and of course, the leader of Ferelden's army, Teyrn Loghain.

"We were one for a short time. Unified by a single purpose that terrible day: To live. To see our children, and loved ones, safe once again."

I stopped a moment for a breath and to let that sink in. There was utter silence. I hoped I wasn't pushing too radical an idea, that we were all the same.

"That was a day when humans welcomed elves to pick up arms and fight, when everyone was glad to see a mage cast a ball of fire at a wall of darkspawn, or healing the wounded. No one minded the Dalish walking into the city armed with their fine bows or using their creator-given skills to serve us and save us. We were equals in courage. Fine lords and ladies, farmers, crofters, banns, arls, kings and queens, Grey Wardens too. We are nothing but bags of flesh, blood, and bones knitted together with a will to continue."

I paused and saw some shocked and offended looks, but looks of fierce approval too. Casting a glance over at Anora, she looked worried.

I lowered my tone and smiled. "That was two years ago today. Those of us here survived. Our lives are coming back together, falling into what once served as a norm. The elves are back in the alienage struggling against crushing poverty—an opponent more intractable than the archdemon. The Dalish are back in their forests. The mages are once again confined to a tower, and the dwarves have returned to the deep roads to fight the never-ending war they wage against the darkspawn.

"But nothing has changed within us. We're still the same people we were on that day, each of us with the same desire for freedom, prosperity, and love."

I saw many heads nodding, but more than a few frowns, especially from those of the higher classes.

"If we learned nothing else from this experience, didn't we learn that if you strip away the trappings of class and race we are the same? We all long to make life better for our children and ourselves."

I'd outed myself as a radical now. I might was well drive the point home.

"You do me great honor with this statue, but I want us to think about the other heroes who stood with us that day. The heroes now living confined to a tower who could be making daily contributions to our safety and welfare with their Maker-given talents. Think too of the ones living in similar isolation in the alienage, and the Dalish heroes we chase away when they venture too near our farms or towns.

"If we learn any one lesson from the Blight, let it be this. We are the same. We are Fereldans!"

I raised my fist into the air and pumped it as I ended my speech on a shout. There was an answering silence that made me want to slink away into the Fade and reappear somewhere very far away. But just as my raised fist began to slowly sink, there was a smattering of applause. That was followed by cheering. I recognized some of the elves from the alienage and I nodded graciously at them. The Grey Wardens from Amaranthine began to clap and stomp their feet rhythmically. Slowly the applause was taken up by other and it swelled.

There were still plenty of frowns from the VIP section. Anora was biting her lip and I could practically see her frantic thinking. Alistair leaned over to whisper to her and then they both clapped, with enthusiasm. If it was feigned, I couldn't tell, but it had the effect of spurring on the rest of the nobles to follow suit.

Anders's eyes looked a little shiny as he beamed at me. I hadn't shared my speech with anyone, wanting to keep it under wraps. I was afraid someone would try to talk me out of it. It needed saying, and I needed to say it. I glanced up at Zevran's hiding spot and saw him flash a sign at me to signify that all was well.

I nodded to the crowd and left the dais to join the royal couple and my son.

"Well," Anora said, a crease between her brows telling me she was a little annoyed. "That was… interesting. I wish you'd—"

"It was a great speech, Lucy," Alistair interrupted her. "I agree with it completely. In fact, I think Anora has a thing or two she wants to say."

"Hm, yes." Anora lifted her skirts and climbed the stairs of the dais. She waited patiently for the audience to quiet down.

"My people. We have survived and now we thrive. Events such as these shape the future of nations, and we, being Fereldans, shall seize the day and re-shape our own future.

"Now that prosperity has returned to the land we can turn to recognizing the contributions of all those who faced certain death that day two years ago. I am going to work with the Chantry to ensure that our Fereldan mages are put to good use. After they complete their Circle training, they will be offered posts in every village as healers and protectors, to aid in whatever capacity their talents best serve."

I saw the Grand Cleric's forehead wrinkle at that, but if I knew Anora I knew she would prevail.

"The elves must also be honored and it is time to recognize them as equal citizens of this nation and especially in Denerim. No longer will our capital be ruled by an Arl, but instead there will be a council and that council will elect a leader. The elves will always have at least one seat on this counsel."

The elves cheered at that, but only a smattering of humans applauded.

Anora turned to me and her eyes twinkled. "I've also just been informed by Commander Cousland that she wishes to build a school in the alienage and provide free education to all elves, and any humans who wish to go as well."

_What? _I mentally reviewed my finances and realized that I could afford it. In fact, it was just the sort of thing I would have done had I thought of it. I grinned and nodded at Anora.

"You can't blame her for getting her revenge, Lucy," Alistair said quietly to me, beaming at his wife. "You did put her on the spot."

I laughed. "It was well done, Al. I am happy to do it."

The elven contingent erupted into applause and wild cheering this time. I waved at them.

"There will be other reforms to come in the months and years ahead, but for now, let us enjoy this week of feasting, gaming, music and dancing as we celebrate life and the rebirth of our nation!"

I had opened a large can of fat wiggling worms. How large it was, I found out in the weeks and months after the celebration as Anora, Alistair, and I began battling the entrenched forces of those who liked the status quo and those who are terrified by change. But gradually, ever so gradually, we implemented our plans and we saw meaningful changes in the lives of the elves and mages.

_~o~o~o~_

It was months before either of the Hawke sisters went to Amaranthine. Loghain seemed to always have some use for Doria. When they finally went, so did Zevran, Anders and I. There was to be a celebration there: a wedding. Nathaniel Howe and Mary Ann, the bossy serving girl, were marrying.

"Is she preggers?" I asked Anders as the blushing bride swept down the aisle.

"I would know this how? Do you want me to tackle her to the ground and check?"

"I thought maybe you could cast a discrete little spell and see."

"Cara," Zevran said, tsking at me and shaking his head.

I smiled at my sweet assassin and covertly held both their hands as the bride and groom said their vows, vows that I couldn't exchange, at least not openly. Perhaps one day we would cross that bridge.

_~o~o~o~_

**Two Years Later**

Danny was precocious. No, that is not just a proud mother speaking. He truly was precocious. He spoke months before Calenhad did and it wasn't long after that he began putting words together into short sentences. I attributed it to all the reading we'd done with him and all the time he spent with adults. There was no questioning his intelligence though. I began to believe I had a child prodigy.

But he wasn't just all intellect. He was charming too. My son always seemed to be able to disarm adults and deflect their anger by smiling in a certain way. He learned the power of his dimples early on. At first I was just as susceptible as everyone else, but I learned to avoid looking too long at him when he was trying to get his way. Unfortunately he learned that he could easily manipulate Zevran and Anders and with the three of them against me, I seldom won. So my boy pretty much got whatever he wanted. Thankfully, it didn't turn him into a spoiled brat.

I was happier than I had ever been for as long as I remembered, in this world or my prior one. The three men I loved most in the universe loved me, Danny, Anders and Zevran. I was only nominally involved in the Grey Wardens. Most of my time was working with the toilet factory, the alienage school, or working on my latest invention, toilet paper. There were relatively few attacks from darkspawn and the other Wardens handled it. Nothing horrible lurked in my future. Or if there was disaster awaiting me, I was blissfully unaware.

Life was pretty damn splendid and even the food was awesome. I was enjoying my supper in the Warden compound, while a blizzard swirled around Denerim. It was ungodly—strike that—un_makerly _cold, but my little family brought warmth and happiness that made me forget about the hideous winter we were having. Danny was sticking pitted Antivan olives onto his fingers and pretending they were puppets. "Stop playing with your food, Danny. It will go cold," I said. Shades of my own mother crept into my voice.

"Ah, cara, let him have fun," Zevran chided me. "They grow up too fast, no?"

I rolled my eyes but squeezed his knee under the table. "The kid will have no manners," I said, knowing it wasn't true. He always seemed to pull it together when we dined at the palace.

"He's got fancier manners than I do," Anders said. "He just doesn't waste them on us."

"True, Momma," Danny said. "I know my manners. Nursey teaches us." He wiggled his olive clad fingertips in my face. I loved olives so I captured his finger and sucked an olive off of it while he giggled. Okay, that was oddly sophisticated for a four-year-old, but we'd become used to it.

"Daddy can we go for a ride tomorrow?" Danny asked.

Both men turned to him. "Ask your mother," Anders said beating Zevran to the punch line of so many of his questions. Danny called both men daddy. It caused a fair amount of confusion.

I pretend-scowled at my little angel. "In this weather? Are you insane?" My hand shot out to tickle his ribs. He squirmed and howled with laughter, flinging the olives off his fingers all over the dining room. I didn't mind the mess he was making, the hilarity of the moment was too precious.

In the middle of all that laughter and silliness came a sound that was so out-of-place I filtered it out until it happened again.

Boom, boom, boom. Someone pounded at the door. It sounded urgent and the pounding came again soon after the first had stopped.

"Who the hell…?" I stood, not waiting for a servant to answer the door. Zevran and Anders followed me to the foyer. I opened the door and my chin almost hit the floor.

"Morrigan!"

_~o~o~o~_

**_Notes: _**_Thanks for the reviews! I would love to hear from folks about this story, or if you have any ideas for one-shots you'd like me to explore, please let me know in a review._

_Thanks Biff for beta-reading! Thanks Zevgirl for the feedback!_


	33. The Visitor

_I know I said there's one more chapter, but there will be yet another after this. A epilogue to wrap up any lose ends and questions. I had a most interesting review from the last chapter, someone taking great offence at Lucy's unusual family structure. I guess happy families are rather offensive. Funny how all the violence is never an issue. Ah well! _

"Morrigan!" Bursting into sobs of joy, I ran to her, squeezing her with all the feelings of happiness I had. She stiffened in response, but that was normal for her. She hated displays of affection or strong emotion and I had an excess of both. Peeling me off, she held me at arm's length and inspected me.

"You look well. Please don't squish my child."

I could feel my face going blank with puzzlement. Then I looked down. "Oh!" There was a small girl clinging timidly to Morrigan's skirts, peeking around them. "Oh, blight me! You've got a daughter!" I stooped down so I was eye-level with her and grinned. "Well, hello there cutey! You look to be the same age as..."

"She is."

There was more starch in her voice than a Jesuit's collar as she interrupted, but it didn't stop my thought process. If she's Danny's age then that must mean Morrigan got pregnant shortly before we killed the archdemon, or after. Was she shtupping someone in our company?

"Oh, isn't she precious," I cooed. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

The girl only clung to her mother and stared mutely at me with fascination and fear. Poor girl. Had she been living in the Wilds with only her mother for companionship? She seemed utterly terrified of me.

"I named her Lucine," her mother said.

Tears sprang to my eyes again at the tribute that was implied in that name. "Morrigan..."

"Don't get slushy about it. I don't know a lot of girl's names. That just sprang to mind." She smiled at me suddenly. "Besides, I always liked your name and we got along pretty well."

"Well, I am honored. What brings you to Denerim?"

"I was hoping to visit for a while. To... to catch up. I may be leaving Ferelden, so this could be our last opportunity."

"Morrigan. How fascinating."

I turned around at the sound of Zevran's voice. He was leaning against the door frame. His face wearing that flat, inscrutable look I'd come to associate with suspicion and wariness, and usually someone dying at some point, but this was Morrigan. What was his problem?

"I see you're still here," Morrigan said. Her own face stiffened. "It is good to see you."

"Is it?" Zevran replied. Then he thawed, a big smile broke over his face, and came forward, taking Morrigan's hands in his own. "Ah, I tease you, my dear. Of course you are a welcome sight. We shared so much during the blight."

This was odd. As near as I knew, the two of them had always gotten along, but they were clearly not happy to see one another. It crossed my mind immediately that the child…could she be Zevran's? She looked like her mother and I saw nothing of Zevran in her. Still, that didn't mean he didn't contribute some genes. I frowned at Zevran. We'd definitely be chatting later. Meanwhile, she was our guest. If she wanted something-perhaps child-support?-she was still our guest, and my dear friend.

"Absolutely, Morri. We've got plenty of room here. I'll have a room set up for you two. There's always stew on in the kitchen, bread too. A bath–well, you can draw your own. After all you taught me that spell."

Chatting amiably, I led mother and daughter up the stairs to a room where they could wash up and rest and then left them to recover from what must've been a brutal trip in this horrid cold weather. The staff scurried around to ready our best guest room.

#

"Morrigan? That's the hedge witch you traveled with during the Blight?" Anders asked when I settled into bed that evening.

"Yes, that's her," I said. Zevran's cold reception still rankled. "I thought you liked her, Zev."

"I did not care for how she used you. And then she disappeared after the battle without saying goodbye. She never even came to the see how you were after the battle. Some friend. Bah! I will be happy to send her on her way if you wish, cara."

"Oh pooh! She just acts oddly sometimes. Growing up in near isolation in a swamp makes people odd. Anyway, that is Morrigan and how she handles things."

"Hmm," Zevran said skeptically. "She wants something, of course. You always trusted her blindly and she played you all along."

"Water under the bridge." Morrigan, my mage-sister, my Blight companion, had returned to say a final farewell. "What was done is done. Four years is a long time and people change."

"What happened?" Anders asked. "Sounds like Zevran doesn't really trust her."

Zevran shrugged. "You tell it, amore. She was your friend."

"_Is_ my friend. She's a little rough around the edges at times, babe." I patted Anders on the knee under the covers. "She grew up with her weird mom in a swamp. I've told you about Flemeth."

"You've told me about her. Weird mom is putting it mildly," Anders said.

"Yes, well, her weird mom had a reason for sending Morrigan with us. She intended for her daughter to do some sort of ritual and-"

"Braska! Must we be forever reliving the blight?" Zevran said. He began undressing for bed with fury, flinging clothes everywhere.

What had gotten into him? One minute he asks me to tell the story, the next he doesn't want to hear it. Maybe it was finally the accumulated stress of his fight in Antiva, or post-traumatic stress disorder. He'd seemed pretty good for the last two years, only occasionally over responding to things or having nightmares. I didn't recall him acting this way when we'd talked about the blight before. Often he'd tell some sort of halfway shocking story and have everyone laughing.

Anders and I looked at each other, surprise written on both of our faces.

"No, of course not," I said calmly, trying to hide the hurt and confusion I was feeling.

Anders came to my rescue. "Listen, things were just getting good, in that book we've been reading. Let's read some more of that, shall we? Lucy, will you do the honors? You've perfected the voice for Anna. Rawr!" He squeezed my knee in the spot that always made me squirm.

I punched him in the arm. I hated when he did that knee thing. "All right." Picking up the book, I found where we left off. "Chapter 20," I read. "Fifty Shades of Grey Warden. The Joining."

_"What foul liqueur is this?" Anna asked as she was passed the chalice. _

_"Question not, young recruit. Drink. All will become clear soon." The commander scowled at her. _

_She raised the dark ichor to her plump lips and, nearly choking on the smell, drank deeply of the corruption. The world blurred and the commander seemed to split and divide, two of him towering over her, watching with sadistic amusement. She gasped, stumbled and grabbed the edge of a table. Then she fell in a faint, not even realizing the commander had swooped her into his arms at the last moment and was carrying her to the proving chamber._

Zevran had climbed into bed as I read and nestled close, his hand running up and down my thigh. "And this, mia cara, is how it was for you?"

It was a relief that Zevran seemed to have forgotten his earlier irritation and was taking interest in the story and my thigh.

"Ha! I've told you that story. I never actually underwent the Joining. It was Elissa who drank that stuff. But I can't imagine Duncan doing that. Well, that's not entirely true. I can actually imagine it. Have, in fact, a number of times. Not that he would, mind you, except in my imagination."

Anders grinned at me. "Funny, I had similar fantasies about my Joining. It was something of a disappointment in reality. You never carried me to the proving chamber."

I punched him again.

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that the author seems to have such knowledge of the Grey Wardens?" Anders said, rubbing his arm.

"No," I said. "What strikes me as odd is that the Grey Wardens imagine they can keep all this stuff a secret."

"Agreed," Anders said. "I'd certainly have blabbed it if the Warden Commander hadn't seduced me."

I gave a little shriek of outraged protest. "I seduced you?" That earned him a third punch to the arm. "Oh ho! You pursued me relentlessly."

"I want to hear what happens in the proving chamber," Zevran said. "Perhaps we should have a proving chamber, no?"

"I'd say we're in the proving chamber right now," I said. "Maker knows, between the two of you I've had my share of torture."

Between the book, the good-natured banter, and what followed later, I forgot about Zevran's outburst and went to sleep with a big smile on my lips. Was it fair for one woman to feel so loved?

_#_

It was a close thing. Morrigan being here was dangerous. There was only one time Zevran had betrayed Lucy, and he'd never confessed to it. If she found out now, he might lose her forever.

That night, more than four years ago now, he'd gone to Morrigan as he told Lucy he would. The witch had been adamant. She would not return unless she got what she wanted, a baby conceived by a Warden. Even more compelling, she had told him that a Grey Warden must die unless she arranged this mystical ritual and conception. He had believed her. If he could do something to save them, then he must try.

Four years ago

"I will drink the Joining potion myself, if I must," Zevran offered.

Morrigan cocked her head and looked at him as if examining his suitability. "No offense, Zevran, but t'would most likely kill you. You already carry a toxic burden from the poisons you use. But there's another. Loghain. I sense that he could survive."

"But would he do it?"

The witch had laughed. "You must be joking? He is besotted. Take the potion. She keeps it in her sock drawer. You can steal it, no? Fortunately there's no lock on her sock drawer. Tell him what I have told you. He will certainly do it."

Zevran bridled at the insult to his lock picking skills. "If Loghain can be convinced, then I will deliver him to you."

He slipped into the night, stole the last dose of Avernus's Joining potion, and then sneaked into Teyrn Loghain's quarters late that night. The general was sitting at his desk, pouring over a map of the city's defenses.

"General Loghain," Zevran said quietly, standing behind the Teyrn, but well out of reach.

Roaring as he sprung from his chair, he reached for his sword and turned to confront the intruder. "What is this about then, assassin?" he growled at the Antivan as he took a step forward, his sword leading the way.

Zevran spread his arms to show he was weaponless. "A mutual friend of ours is doomed, my lord. There's a way we can save her."

"Lucy." The Teyrn put his weapon down, but kept it close. "She told me. I was intending to drink the loathsome concoction that would make me a Warden. I can take the killing blow. I knew she'd never agree, so I was going to conspire with the bastard to get it for me. Besides, there are certain advantages to taking the potion that might help in the upcoming battle."

"Ah, well, I've saved you the trouble, Ser." Zevran held up the bottle with the very last dose of Avernus's potion. "There's just a little more to it than drinking this cocktail, you see. How could you guarantee that you take the killing blow? Battling a dragon is certain to be chaotic, yes?"

Loghain rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "True. There are never any guarantees."

"Except in this case, my lord, there is. No Warden need die." Zevran said. How was he to suggest to this renowned general that he had to plough a witch?

"Indeed?" he said. His tone was skeptical. "And how is this miracle supposed to happen?"

"It requires a bit of magic. It is a spell. I don't quite know all the details other than..." He paused for a moment, covering his uncertainty with a cough.

"Spill it, assassin, I have plans to attend to. Give me the potion and let's put an end to it."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. It's just that if you truly want to ensure that a Warden doesn't die when the archdemon does, you'll have to..." He pretended to cough and smothered it with his sleeve and muttered, "sleep with the witch."

"Fall asleep at the switch?" Loghain repeated.

"Er, no. Witch."

"Fall asleep at the witch?"

"Well, a witch. And yes, sleep. Fall asleep, not so much."

Squinting his eyes, Loghain seemed to be reparsing his sentence while watching Zevran dubiously. "I need to sleep with a witch?"

"Yes."

"And by sleep, you don' t mean actual sleep," Loghain said.

"Excellent deduction, Excellency."

Sighing, Loghain reached for the bottle of Antivan brandy and poured a healthy portion. Zevran wholly approved of the anesthetic. It would dull the shock.

"And is this witch Lucy?" Loghain took a deep draught of the amber fluid. "I think I can bear the sacrifice."

The distrust in Loghain's eyes told Zevran he didn't believe for a moment that the witch was Lucy. "No, Your Grace. In this case, the witch is Morrigan."

"And why, pray tell, must I fuck the spawn of Flemeth?"

This marked the moment that Zevran began to dissemble. The truth of the matter was Morrigan had some crazy scheme to hatch a god by impregnating herself with tainted semen. If what she said was true, it would save the Wardens from being destroyed by the archdemon attempting to possess them.

If it was true or simply that Morrigan herself was deluded or had a fetish she wanted to indulge, he didn't care. On the off chance it saved Danny and Lucy, he would accomplish this. He had a vial of sleeping draught in his pocket. If necessary he'd drug the teyrn and bring Morrigan to his chamber. Hopefully, she could manage the deed with an unconscious man.

"It is some mysterious ritual, ser, involving sex. She swears it will save the Warden who kills him from dying. I know you intend to take that blow yourself, my lord, but, even as you said, how can you be certain?"

Loghain thought for a moment, took another swig of brandy, and then rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "This seems farfetched."

"What's the worst that could happen? You spend a bit of time with a beautiful and willing woman. One who will never ask you for anything. I should think a man who has sacrificed so much for his country could find himself up to performing one more heroic deed."

Loghain groaned. "Enough. I will do it. Give me the potion to make me a Warden and I will fornicate with the witch."

Things rarely go as planned. Loghain passed out when he drank the Joining potion. Zevran feared he had died. It was very late when he finally awoke. But in the end Zevran delivered the newly created Grey Warden to Morrigan and she had her way with the Fereldan general. Judging from her moans, as he stood outside the door, he began to think perhaps he'd been right to think it was a fetish after all.

#

It isn't lying, is it? Not if you deliver some of the truth. Loghain didn't need to know his part in creating Morrigan's godling. Besides, he was more than just a little dubious that this plan of Morrigan's could even work. So when Lucy had asked him how he had managed to talk Morrigan into returning, he'd deflected her with charm and Lucy was only too happy with the results.

Loghain must have shaded the truth too, leaving out the ritual with Morrigan. Riordan was angry that he'd given the general the Joining. It had led to a falling out, but they'd patched it up in the end. He could only imagine how furious Riordan would've been had he known the full extent of what Zevran had done. The thought turned like a knife in his heart as thoughts of Riordan reawakened a sorrow that would never completely die. But Morrigan was here now and his role in this could be exposed. Was the child hiding in her skirts the reincarnation of the archdemon? Perhaps her spell had gone wrong after all. Still, whether or not the spell had worked, his part in it must not come to light. Could Lucy ever forgive him for it?

_#_

Morrigan watched for a few days, quietly marking the unusual boy. He never pouted, cried or had tantrums. He seemed to watch the world, taking everything in and cataloging it. Sometimes the boy was astoundingly clever at manipulating adults. Those beautiful green eyes would open wide, or a set of dimples would show, and suddenly everything went his way. Of course, the god of beauty would be a charmer. If only things had gone as planned, Lucine would have ruled Thedas by twenty.

Perhaps it wasn't too late to correct the mistake. The hard part would be getting the boy away from his mother and the two men she was cohabitating with. But morning brought fresh ideas. Morrigan was a pleasant and thoughtful guest, helping Lucy where she could, offering to watch the children while Lucy went about her business.

"Would you like to hear a story?" Morrigan asked the children. Lucine nodded happily, clutching Danny's hand in hers. "Well, come then, let's go up to the library. The chairs are comfortable up there. Perhaps we can even have a slice of cake."

"Okay," Danny said. The subject of cake was one that came up often in his negotiations with his elders.

"Okay," Lucine parroted. She'd already picked up the odd word that Lucy always said when she meant to signal agreement.

The children followed Morrigan into the kitchen. "We need some cake sent up to the library immediately." She stood in the center of the kitchen, not sure who was in charge, but looked imperiously at the staff, her hands on her hips.

"I'm sorry, madam," one woman came forward. She seemed to have an air of authority about her. "The commander has said that Danny isn't to have cake except after he has eaten his supper."

"Is that a fact? Well, I am in charge of the children today, and I say they must have cake," Morrigan said, drawing herself up a little straighter and looking down her nose at the shorter woman. There was a flicker of her fingers, half-hidden by her skirt, and the woman stepped back, suddenly cowed.

"Of course, madam. I'll have it sent up immediately."

Morrigan indulged a smug smile. Flemeth's grimoire had some exceedingly interesting spells, indeed.

When she turned to look at the children, Lucine was cringing behind Danny, but Danny looked at her hands curiously.

"Well, come children! Let's have stories and cake." Morrigan's smile was warm and maternal as she herded the children into the library.

She was disappointed to find nothing in the library suitable for the unawakened god-child, so she made up some stories, tinged with truth. The children listened raptly as she told them of the brilliant and daring mages of the Tevinters and the temples dedicated to the worship of the old gods.

A couple of hours passed and Lucine began to fidget. Danny pronounced himself hungry and the trio tromped downstairs and waited for supper in the common room.

"Why doesn't the Maker like the old gods?" Danny asked.

Morrigan, fearing someone might overhear, put her finger to her lips and shushed the child. "Because, my sweetling, he was jealous of them. Tis always such with the so-called Maker. He is forever stomping off in a snit whenever things don't go his way." She hugged Danny close to her and whispered into his ear. "But such knowledge is secret and we mustn't share it with anyone. All right?"

Danny pulled away and nodded. "I can keep secrets."

Morrigan smiled warmly. _Oh yes, you certainly can, can't you?_

_#_

Lingering over his morning tea, Zevran watched Morrigan carefully as they shared the breakfast table alone together. It was the first morning in some time that he hadn't needed to rush off to attend to some official task for the Ferelden crown. A shifty Orlesian ambassador had been his target. He'd been tailing him for almost two weeks now and still hadn't discovered anything interesting. Something was there. The man practically oozed intrigue.

Unofficially, he was the head of the CIA in Ferelden. It was a name coined by Lucia. Central Intelligence Agency, she said. Of course, he was the only one actually employed by the agency, but Anora promised it would grow someday and he would be the master of spies. Lucy was thrilled at the appointment, happy he had an important role to play in the government. It suited him. Lately he'd been making some important contacts in the Ferelden underworld. A few elven servants working for various Ferelden lords were well compensated for interesting tidbits of salacious gossip they brought him.

Not this morning, though. He could take his time reporting to the castle. The Orlesian ambassador was out drinking late last night, and he wouldn't be up until noon.

Meanwhile, there was Morrigan, who, against all his expectations, turned out to be the perfect house guest. Not only did she volunteer to watch Danny and her own daughter-and who imagined Morrigan taking care of children? Eating them was more her style. She had ingratiated herself even further by teaching Lucia a "useful" new spell to make things grow. Brasca! Why did she think it was so funny quadruple an already enormous sewer rat? It was now the size of a small mabari and fled back into the sewers. It was rather funny at the time, thanks to Anders's herbs they'd puffed on earlier that day, but sooner or later they'd have to go down there and kill it.

"Did I grow an extra head overnight?" Morrigan caught his lazy stare. Her eyes narrowed as she returned it.

"Ah, the world would be twice so fortunate were you to double your beauty by sprouting another head. No, I was thinking perhaps you'd lost the only one you have. Why, my dear, why did you return? I seem to recall we had an agreement. You'd get Loghain's spawn and, after the archdemon died, you'd leave and never to return. Yet, here you are."

"Can't I see my closest friend, Lucy? We were like sisters once."

"A sister you would have abandoned in her greatest hour of need. Tsk, tsk! I'm sure you can do better."

Morrigan drew breath sharply, as if wounded. "It wasn't my finest moment, I will admit. All the more reason to return and apologize."

Perhaps he was losing his edge, but there could be something to it. The two women had been close during the blight and Morrigan was always a manipulator. "And your child? Did you manage to entrap the soul of an old god in her?" He'd gargle with concentrated crow poison if she had. The child was more like a neglected waif roaming the Alienage than some reborn god of old.

Morrigan looked down and sheepishly smiled. "No. She's as ordinary as you Zevran. There's nothing magical about her in the slightest. I suspect it was Avernus's potion that is to blame. Those Wardens who drink it seem more adept at keeping the taint in check. I think there wasn't enough taint in Loghain to make the spell work."

He laughed at being called ordinary. "Those of us lacking magic make up for it in other ways. I'm sure your daughter will too." It was interesting about the lack of taint in Loghain. He had hopes that Anders and Lucy wouldn't ever experience their calling. If Avernus's potion was what kept the ancient mage alive, then perhaps his two Wardens would also age more slowly.

Well, then, his suspicions were confirmed. Morrigan had failed to capture the archdemon's soul. It allayed Zevran's suspicions, but only somewhat. Where Morrigan was concerned, it was wise to be cautious.

Idly stirring her tea, Morrigan looked up and smiled slyly. "I'm not the only one with a guilty conscience when it comes to Lucy."

With a quiet chuckle, Zevran relaxed into his chair, but his corners of his eyes tightened. "I do what I must to protect my family, capisce? She might not always understand my methods, but don't make the mistake of thinking I've forgotten how to be a Crow."

"There's nothing wrong with my memory, elf. But do set aside your suspicions and let's get along, for Lucy's sake if for no other reason." She set aside the spoon and took a dainty sip of the tea. "I am not ungrateful for your hospitality."

He shrugged and rose lazily from the table, stretching to relax his taut muscles. "I hope I'm wrong about you, Morrigan."

"You are, elf. You are."

"I'd better be." He left the kitchen and could almost swear the witch's eyes burned holes into his back.

_#_

"What're you cooking up over there, Zev?" Anders was across the lab, pounding something that smelled like garlic in a mortar.

"Prolixia, a most interesting potion. It can, in the hands of a skillful user, make the most reluctant bird sing. Did I ever tell you the time I used it on rich merchant and, with a bit of aptly applied persuasion, he told me where he had hidden the corpse of his wife, a fortune he stole from her family, and confessed he loved me?"

"Are you seriously tell me it is a truth serum? I thought such things were fables." Anders carefully measure a rank smelling yellow powder into the already garlicky smelling mixture, then looked up at the assassin with disbelief.

"Eh, by itself, no. It just makes people really want to talk. Lower their suspicions, loosen their inhibitions and they'll tell you almost anything." He held up the glass beaker to the sun and watched the red color dissolve out of the blood lotus and into the suspension liquid. It reminded him of an Antivan sunset, gaudy and bloody. Gorgeous. It also reminded him of Lucia's hair. Blood lotus was a rare and beautiful flower.

"So, Antiva," Anders said as he idly crushed and mixed his own compound. "Speaking of secrets, what is with this Morrigan? I couldn't help but notice you and Lucy seem to be at odds over her. Was there a little something going on between you two during the Blight?"

"Jealous?" Zevran said shooting Anders a sly glance.

"So there was?"

Zevran snorted. "Nothing. I was too busy watching someone else's backside to think about hers."

"So why do you dislike her?" Anders said, pressing Zevran for answers.

"I don't dislike her. She's perfectly charming when she wants something from you." He hesitated and rummaged through a drawer looking for another ingredient. "Until she doesn't get it," he murmured softly.

"Eh?" Anders said his attention fully on Zevran.

"Nothing important. What are you mixing over there? The whole room smells of garlic!" He adroitly changed the subject.

The pair worked amicably, sharing the same laboratory. They often talked of having separate labs, but they enjoyed the company. Lucy worried they might get their worked mixed up and accidentally poison someone, but Anders swore he could cure any accidental poisonings and they were both cautious.

"I'm working on a blood tonic that will cleanse the liver and balance the humors," the mage said. "But there's a problem. We're out of the spirits I need to make an extract."

"What do you need?"

"Antivan brandy works well. Sugar content isn't too high."

"We should have it. Ask the cook," Zevran said, turning back to his potion.

"She said we're out."

"No. We just tapped a new barrel not a month ago." Zevran couldn't believe they'd already managed to drink up that much brandy. "Ah, there's some in the library. No one ever goes in there. Keep working, Twitch. I'll get it." Zevran winked at the mage and set off for the library.

Morrigan had been going there a lot with the kids during the day. Telling them stories, she said. Pah! When did she become such a doting mother? The little girl, Lucine, had blossomed a little during their weeks here. Spending time with other people, especially Danny, had been good for her. Too bad Morrigan hadn't spent some time with people other than her crazy mother; perhaps she would have turned out better.

As he went down the hall, he could hear Morrigan's voice. She wasn't whispering, but her voice was low and intense. Something about it made him slow down and walk quietly so could hear more.

"What do you recall, Danny? Can you remember the beat of your powerful wings as you rode the winds? Do you remember ruling over men and accepting their offerings of gold, jewels and blood? Do you remember how you died, with your mother's sword in your belly?"

Zevran froze in place and it felt like the blood was freezing in his veins. What was the witch doing? _The beat of his powerful wings?_ Did she believe… Danny, the archdemon? The ice in his blood nearly gripped his heart. Could it be true? No! Absolutely not. Danny was a sweet, gentle boy. He was the son of Riordan and Lucy, almost certainly, the two people he had loved most in this world. No! Even now, four years later, he could remember that conversation with the witch.

_"Why Loghain? Why not Riordan?"_

_"Even if I thought Riordan could be convinced, he is unsuitable. I need one who has not been tainted for too long."_

She had said it herself. Riordan was too tainted and the combination of Lucy's taint with his would have been too much, yes? So the only explanation was the witch was insane. She was mad with jealousy over their son. Her daughter, sweet child that she was, seemed like a mouse compared to him. She was trying to seduce their children with wild stories. The chill in his veins was replaced by a surge of hot anger.

"Morrigan!" He strode into the library and noticed how the witch jumped and looked up, alarm written plainly on her face.

"Zevran, do you still lurk around corners and spy on people? Such a bad habit." Her tone was pure acid.

His fingers itched to place themselves around her neck and squeeze but there were the children to think of. "Danny, take Lucine to the kitchen and tell the cook I said you could have a slice of cake."

"But daddy, we already had cake," Danny said.

"Have more cake, son."

Danny shared a grin with Lucine. He gripped her hand and practically pulled her off the couch. They charged out of the library leaving the two adults.

"What lies are you telling my boy? This is why you came here isn't it?" Zevran said.

"Your son is the child I was meant to have, Zevran. My mother never took into account Avernus's formula, that it would limit the taint, even in Riordan's body. There wasn't enough taint in Loghain's seed to draw the archdemon to our child."

"You're mistaken, witch. Danny is no archdemon. He is a boy. My son."

"No, 'tis you who are mistaken. On two counts. Danny is not your son and he does have the soul of an old god within him. You're blinded to it, but doesn't he seem a little too perfect? Too advanced for a child of a mere four years?" Morrigan rose from the little divan.

"In every way that matters, he is my son. Exceptional he is, but that means nothing."

"You're a fool, Zevran. Open your eyes and recognize that you know nothing of how to raise a god. You and Lucy are over your heads!"

He stepped closer to Morrigan, raising his hand about slap her, but stopped himself short of delivering the blow. "You've worn out your welcome. Tonight you will pack and I will see you to the gates of Denerim come morning. I warn you, Morrigan. This ends here and now. If we ever cross paths again I will kill you. This I swear."

The witch drew herself up, clamping her jaw and glaring at the assassin. Her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily. "Very well. I will leave."

Zevran stood his ground, watching her as she left the library, wondering if he should have just killed her.

~o~o~o~

"Where's Morri?" Lucy asked that night at supper. She got in late from the factory and looked worn out, but happy. A large order of toilets had just been sent to the Free Marches.

"She said she isn't feeling well," Zevran said. He smiled pleasantly at Lucy and squeezed her knee.

"You didn't poison her did you?" Lucy said, joking with him.

Zevran laughed with her, but his face felt like a mask. _I wish I had._

_#_

In the night he dreamed of dark wings and then the dark lady stood over his bed and whispered to him. "Awaken, Urthemiel." White sparkles trailed from her fingers and over him. Yawning he stretched his limbs and sat up in bed.

"Hi." He was curious and not at all afraid. Why was she in his room in the middle of the night? Did she want to play the dragon game again?

"Do you want to fly?" she asked him.

He was a boy, of course he wanted to fly. He wanted to be a dragon and fly. Even if it was just pretend, it was fun. "Sure."

"Then come."

She turned into a dog, or maybe a wolf, he wasn't sure. Mommy could do that too, but with other animals. Maybe Morrigan would teach him how to be a dragon.

He followed her outside, fascinated by her soft fur and wolfish smile. They went out the back door and through the garden to the gate. He stretched up on his tippy toes to unlatch it. Mom might get mad for a little bit—he might not get any treats for a day or two—but learning to fly was worth it.

They turned out onto the cobble-paved street and the wolf began to move quickly, faster than he could run. His toe caught an uneven paver and he went down to his knees, but caught himself with his hands before he fell all the way down. The rough stones burned and tore his skin. He examined the wound, seeing how the skin peeled up in little flakes. In one spot it was red and mottled and a little blood oozed out. Tears burned in his eyes at the pain and surprise of the ground coming up to smack his knees, but he didn't cry. Something within him didn't like crying boys. _Run._

So the boy got up and followed on. The wolf-lady stopped and waited for him to catch up, and then went on again.

"Wait!" he called out after her. The only hint she gave that she heard was a short, quiet bark.

She took many twists and turns through the streets. It seemed far away. Mom would worry, but he knew how to take care of himself. Or at least, he was pretty sure he could. Since Morrigan had come and told him those stories, he had memories of taking care of himself. Terrifying memories. He'd woken up in the night, a scream of fright never quite making it out of his throat. _We don't scream in terror. _

That was the night that the thing inside him first spoke to him. He'd been becoming aware of its presence, finding that there was a part of him that seemed separate, yet inside him. Cal's nurse had told the boys about golems. He'd imagined that when he was really little he had swallowed one and now it was coming to life inside him, telling him things, showing him things. Once Danny asked if it had a name and the golem had said something that was too big for him to remember. It sounded like "Themmel" so Danny thought of him as Themmy, but he never dared to say the name out loud.

His breath came in pants, like a dog's, as he ran after the magical lady. _Faster._ He followed her around a corner and ran smack into a man's legs.

"Hey, brat!" The man lurched and grabbed for him.

He smelled bad. _Fight. _Themmy wanted him to stop, not run away from the bad-smelling man. _You can do it. Try._ Do what? Something wild welled up from inside him. His feet tingled like Zevran was tickling him or Anders was making little sparks up his spine. It built up pressure in his middle and then it burst from him: a light so bright in the darkness that it blinded him for a moment. He yelled and shut his eyes but still saw a jagged line of searing white even with his eyes closed. When he opened them there was still a bright line but he could also see a cloud of white ash swirling around where the man had stood, and a pair of dirty, tattered, smoldering shoes.

Did I do that? _Yes, we did it._ I made the bad man go away?_ Good boy. Now run!_

The boy tore down the street, following where the wolf-lady had run. Running was good. He didn't need to think about the bad-smelling man and what happened to him. _You killed him. _No! There was only a deep chuckle within him. Themmy was happy. A feeling came to him, one that overrode his fear: joy. There were feelings pouring out of Themmy, so many he didn't know what they were. Pictures of pretty ladies tied to stakes, young men pushed into smoking mountains, and a dragon watched from a high perch. Through it all he felt-no Themmy felt-joy, pride...

"No!" Danny yelled. He wanted to stop running after the wolf-lady and go back home, but Themmy had grown stronger and his feet wouldn't obey. _You will run!_

Danny's world was reduced to the pounding of his feet and the tearing of air through his aching lungs. Before he didn't mind Themmy. He was something special, a secret friend, someone that helped him, but now he was scared.

No, no, no! The words echoed like a chant through Danny's mind. He regretted running after the wolf-lady, regretted disobeying the rule about leaving the compound without permission. It didn't matter now. He was lost and had no idea how to get back to his mom. _I will protect you._ The thought echoing up from Themmy did nothing to ease his mind, only made it all worse. Themmy, the thing inside him, was awakening now and Danny sensed this was a very bad thing.

His feet finally stopped as he came to the edge of the river. There was nowhere to turn, but the wolf-lady was there too. She stopped being a wolf and became the lady again. "I want to go home!"

"Be brave, my boy," Morrigan said. "There is greatness inside you, don't you feel it? You're a very, very special boy indeed."

"No!" Danny lied. He did feel it, had ever since he could remember.

"You need to let it through." Morrigan crouched down to his level and took his hands in hers. "Just relax a little, my sweet." A gray mist floated from her hands and encased his, cold and wet.

_Relax, boy. Step aside._

"No!" he shouted. Or he thought he shouted, but it was just a whisper as the mist traveled up his arm, wrapping his shoulders. He felt even more of himself slipping away.

"Urthemiel, do you hear me?" Morrigan stared intensely into Danny's eyes as if searching for something, someone.

"Yes."

That wasn't him answering. Urthemiel? Something within the boy shifted. Didn't Zevran tell him that the dragon mommy killed was named Urthemiel? The Archdemon Urthemiel was inside him? Panic threatened to engulf him, but he couldn't move against the lassitude that was flowing over his body. A shrill scream, one he couldn't vocalize, took root in his brain and built.

"Come, Urthemiel. It is time to free yourself," Morrigan said. She smiled at the boy, but it was really the god she wanted to encourage.

"It... The boy's will is strong. Like his whore-mother's, Lucy."

Danny's voice was all wrong. It wasn't his at all. Deeper, more mature. Remember! What did Zevran say, how did mommy fight the archdemon? He said it went inside her too, but she fought with it there. The scream of terror became one of fury as his field of vision shrunk. _You cannot! Mine!_ The unheard scream grew as more of his senses were taken until just one small pinpoint of light remained. A tiny bit more and he would be forever shut off from his own senses. The scream became a spear and he aimed it for the center of the presence that was robbing him of his own body.

The world erupted in light and the last thing he saw was a pair of yellow eyes opening wide in surprise. He fell into darkness and knew nothing more.

_#_

Something woke Zevran. Whatever it was, it was past. He strained his ears to hear if anything stirred, but the Warden compound was silent. Then he heard it, the door to the compound shutting. _Good!_ The witch was leaving. All would be well again. He turned to his side, preparing to go back to sleep. Sunrise was a few hours off and tomorrow would be busy.

Sleep, however, wasn't coming. Morrigan's appearance and behavior played through his mind. Could she be right? Could Danny truly be the god Urthemiel? Ridiculous! Still, he carefully got out of bed and dressed. It wouldn't hurt to tail her and make sure she really did leave the city.

First though he checked the witches bedroom. Odd. The bed was unmade and there was only one small lump in the bed. He stole over to look and saw Lucine's angelic face peeping out from the covers. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen.

If he'd had hackles, they'd have raised. Why had Morrigan left behind her daughter? He considered waking up the child, but figured Morrigan hadn't told her anything. Something didn't add up. He slipped out of the room and went downstairs. _"You know nothing of how to raise a god. You and Lucy are over your heads!"_

She was clearly out of her mind. Then alarm jolted through his body. She wanted Danny. That had been clear. Had she taken him and left her daughter, righting the mistake she thought was made at the death of the Archdemon?

He ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Danny's room. Throwing open the door, not caring about noise now, and saw the boy's bed was empty. Only his favorite golem doll was there.

"Lucia! Anders!" he shouted and ran to their room. "Get up!" He pulled the blankets from the inert forms in their bed calling their names until their eyes opened.

"Maker's spit, Zevran," Lucy said. "What's going on?" She sat up looking rumpled but waking quickly now.

"Danny's gone. Your dear friend, that witch Morrigan, took him," Zevran said, nearly spitting her name out with fury. Why had he let her stay one more night? He should have kicked her out immediately. Even better, he should've ended her. It was more guilt to bear.

Lucy looked confused. Even now she couldn't accept that Morrigan had betrayed her. "Why?"

"Does it matter now?" Zevran said. "We have to find them!"

Anders rubbed the sleep out of his face and got up. "We can look from air."

Zevran nodded. "I'll search the grounds. Maybe I can pick up some foot prints."

Lucy seemed to be in shock. "Did you check his room? Maybe he's in the wardrobe? Boys do stupid things like hide and then fall asleep."

"Lucia, no. He is not in the compound and I'm sure the witch has him."

Anders had already opened the window and was transforming into a crow.

Zevran was torn between wanting to stay with her to reassure her, but who knew how much of a head start Morrigan had on them. He had to leave. "I must go, cara." He turned, leaving the stunned woman behind him, and raced down the stairs, grabbing a bow and pair of daggers at a weapons rack.

_Stupido!_ Zevran cursed himself for trusting the witch to live up to her word. If Danny was gone or harmed, it would be his fault. How would he live with himself? He searched the ground carefully, thankful for the bright moonlight on this night. There were no tracks in the soft ground in front of the compound so he ran to the other side and went out the garden door.

_There! _Fresh dog prints, wolf prints most likely, and small footprints following them. They ended at the edge of the garden. He left the garden and looked both ways down the street. Which way? If Morrigan were trying to steal him it seemed unlikely she would go deeper into the city, so he guessed she went toward the outskirts. He went down the street, scanning the cobbles for some indication. A fresh clump of dirt, anything, but there was nothing he could pick out of the night. He might as well have been blind.

_#_

_Morrigan stole Danny? _My blood felt like ice water. It just didn't compute. Something nattered at the back of my mind, but I was stunned and too confused to pursue the thoughts that were trying to bubble up to the surface.

I woodenly flexed my fingers, trying to cast the spell to turn into a crow but I had forgotten how. I had forgotten everything I had ever known about magic as anxiety shutdown my brain. Calm. Calm. Calm. I can't help him if I panic. Closing my eyes I drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then I tried to cast the spell again. This time it worked, although my feathers seemed wrong somehow. I hopped to the window sill and flew off, winging my way lopsidedly around Denerim. My flight feathers were fucked up from my poor spell casting.

Spotting Zevran down below, I called to him and circled, letting him know I was nearby. He waved, but turned his eyes down, examining the street closely.

I flew ever widening circles around Zevran, higher than the buildings, looking for anything that might be Danny. Several times I spotted something and swooped down awkwardly to look and found inanimate objects or drunks passed out on the ground. I was about to give way to despair when another crow, squawking loudly, flew to me at top speed. It was Anders, he must've found something. We circled in the air and just as we shifted course, there was a brilliant beam of light that came from a spot near the river. _Danny? _I saw Zevran break into a run heading for the place and we flew at top speed.

On a street that ran along the river I saw a small form lying in the middle of the cobbles, centered in a blackened ring. I cried out a sickly quork and dove down, Anders following just behind. We both reversed the shape-shifting spell and I fell on the prostrate body of my son.

"Danny!" I choked out his name past the lump in my throat and gathered him to my chest. His form hung limply in my arms. With tears streaking down my face, I looked at Anders. Nothing more would come out of my mouth but sobs and a soundless plea for a miracle.

"I need to see him, Lucy," he said softly. He stooped down and gently, so gently, lifted him out of my arms and laid him back on the ground again. His hands streamed blue healing light and it lit my son with an eerie blue glow.

I waited to see my baby take that gasping breath that so many have taken under Anders's healing magic, bringing them back from the edge of death, but his chest didn't move. It seemed like hours, but only minutes had passed when Anders rested his hand on my son's chest, head bent, and the magic flickered out. Slowly he raised his head. "I'm sorry, Lucy. There's nothing..."

"No," I said quietly, stubbornly refusing to believe. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard running feet as Zevran finally caught up with us. "Keep trying. He's not..." I couldn't say the word.

"Cara," Zevran said. He bent down beside and held onto me as I gathered Danny into my arms again. "Cara, I'm sorry. This is my fault." He groaned as if in physical pain. "I am responsible."

His words made no sense so I tuned them out. "Danny, listen to me!" I gave his limp little body a gentle shake. "You aren't going anywhere, young man! You get back into this body and take another breath or you're grounded for a week. Do you hear me?"

"Lucy." Anders shook his head, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it.

I ignored him and gripped my son, burying my face into his sweet neck and smelling him. He smelled of fresh dirt, rain, and soap. He smelled like my boy. I couldn't let him go. The realization crept over me, leaving me numb and feeling just as lifeless as-

He stiffened in my arms, trembled, and at last he took a deep, shaking breath.

"Danny!" I cried. "Oh sweet, Maker. Keep breathing, baby!"

His eyes opened and sought out mine. "Mommy? Is Themmy gone?"

"Morrigan? I think so, baby. I think so." I burst out into a fresh bout of crying but he smiled and his eyes fell closed. He passed out, but his sweet little chest kept rising and falling.

Anders took him from me again and examined him. "Odd. It is almost as if his body turned off and turned on again."

I turned a puzzled look on Anders. "He rebooted?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Totally not important." The tears wouldn't stop coming. I had a feeling it would be days or weeks, maybe months, before I'd stop feeling like a piece of myself had nearly been torn away and destroyed. We picked Danny up and walked slowly toward the Warden compound.

Along the way Zevran pointed to a piece of smoking fur. "Perhaps that is the last we will see of Morrigan."

_#_

Zevran hadn't been himself since the incident with Danny and Morrigan. Anders remembered what the former-Crow had said. He caught Zevran alone one night in his lab and shared a bottle of fine Orlesian wine with him. Once they both were pleasantly tipsy Anders ventured to the topic of what had happened.

"So, do you know why Morrigan tried to steal Danny?" Anders asked.

"Hmmm." Zevran swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the amber liquid sparkling with the reflection of the fire in the hearth. The pause extended so long that Anders nearly gave up on expecting an answer. Finally, he spoke. "Have you ever done something out of love, but perhaps it was a questionable thing? Something that the ones you love wouldn't have understood, but you knew it to be the right thing?"

Anders cocked his head and looked questioningly at him. Then the answer struck him. Of course he had. Invading Lucy's dreams had been rather questionable, but in the end had been the right thing to do. "Er, yes. I suppose I have." A secret he intended to take to his grave. Suddenly his curiosity in Zevran's involvement waned. A man has his secrets.

Zevran's smile was grim as he raised his glass in a toast. "Then let us hope it never comes back to haunt you."

"I'll drink to that." Anders raised his glass and drank deeply. "Just how big of an explosion can you make with those bombs of yours?"

"Bigger than any spell you've got, paisano."

And the topic of Morrigan never came up again.

_#_

**_Notes:_**_ My thanks to the wonderful folks who wrote reviews! I love them and adore you all. My especial thanks to Biff McLaughlin for beta-reading this mess and Zevgirl who reads the snippets I post on G+. And thanks to all of you who have followed this story from the beginning. _

_I intend to post my epilogue before too long, then return to "We Know". After that, who knows? I might try my hand at an original work._


	34. Epilogue: Ten Years Post-Blight

**Spoiler Warning: **_Potential spoilers for the very beginning of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Although, if you've seen the trailers, you've probably had all this beginning stuff spoiled anyway._

Six years more or less flew by. Danny, for all his misadventures with Morrigan, had turned out to be a normal boy, never remembering much of that incident. Life was good in Denerim. The toilet business was growing quickly, but I was leaving it to my managers and concentrating on building schools in Alienages all over Ferelden. It was something to do with all the money my invention bringing us.

Anders's concern over the plight of mages confined to Circles grew over the years. He helped many escape, and we'd hidden some in our cellar, smuggling them out of the country. Rivain was tolerant of mages and even welcomed them. But the unrest in the Circles was growing and finally erupted when they voted for independence. That vote sparked a violent reprisal from the templars and it all went to shit from there. Even the Ferelden Circle revolted, and it was soon an open war as the Circles were abandoned.

It was all we could do to keep Anders from joining the rebel mages. Zevran and I argued that we could do more for them as we were, free from the Circle, as Wardens and close friends to the royalty. I was torn too. I'd spent time in one of the worst Circles and I knew what abuses the templars meted out.

Then one day, without any warning, I awoke to a beautiful song whispering in my head. It was a song I'd heard before as Urthemiel rose from the Deep Roads. Back then it was loud and strong, pulling me to him in my dreams. This time it was much fainter.

"Fuck!" I sat bolt upright in bed, shouting in fear. "Avernus, you ancient piece of shit. You said this wouldn't happen!"

Anders groaned and sat up, holding his head in his hands. "There's music in my head. What is it? It isn't…?"

Zevran sat up too and looked at us, concern and puzzlement written on his face. "What? Another Blight? So soon?"

I shrugged. "Maker, I hope not." Cocking my head, I realized the song was fragile. I couldn't even hear it when I was thinking, or listening to others. Was this how it started? But Anders heard it too. "It reminds me of what I've heard about The Calling. It starts off as faint music. A siren song, of sorts. One day you can no longer resist it and you must find the source."

Zevran shook his head. "No, this is far too soon. And you both hear it? Avernus said he never experienced it. I do not accept this." He angrily slashed the air with his hand. "We will go back to Soldier's Peak…"

"And do what, get a refund?" I said. "No, this isn't The Calling. It doesn't make sense we would hear it at the same time. What about Loghain and Alistair? Maybe the Wardens in Amaranthine hear it too?"

"Didn't you say that The Calling happened when the taint grew too strong? You don't look a day older than when we met. The same with Anders," Zevran said. "Rather uncanny, I admit. But it seems, if anything, you are aging more slowly. I suppose that is how Avernus grew so old."

Anders got out of bed and I slid out after him.

"I'll send a raven," Anders said.

Ravens were a thing now. The orbs still worked, but by now many had broken or disappeared. It also occurred to us they could be used for spying, so we had abandoned that convenient mode of communication. One day, a few years after the Blight, tame ravens arrived in Denerim and an apostate mage from Orlais bound them to a newly built rookery in the palace. The rook circus, as it was called, was transported to all the major cities and holdings in Ferelden. At each spot they were "bound" and taught a rune for that location. It was an amazing feat of magic and animal training, as well as a testament to the birds' intelligence. The ravens would carry messages from one place to another, after being shown a rune, assisted by the knowledge that they'd be rewarded with a sticky, sweet grain treat when they arrived.

The message was sent, and the reply returned in a fraction of the time a messenger on horseback would've have done it. Yes, the Wardens in Amaranthine were also hearing the Calling, and so were Alistair and Loghain. The Orlesian Wardens had also been in contact, confirming that we all were all hearing the same thing. And with that there was also an order for us to report to Orlais from the Warden-Commander Clarel de Chanson.

As Loghain read it, his eyes went cold. He calmly tore it in two, and then tore it again and again until nothing was left but shreds which he threw it into the fire.

"Fuck the Orlesians," he said, drawing out the last word in his own special way that made it more a sneer than anything. "I order all the Ferelden Grey Wardens to remain in Ferelden. If this is a Blight, I won't leave us exposed."

"Who died and put you in charge?" I asked. Over the last decade he'd gotten used to my insubordination for the most part. He might be Ferelden's top general, but he had no authority over the Wardens. "If I recall correctly, Nathaniel was appointed W.C. by me and it was all settled at the Landsmeet."

Loghain glowered and I smiled at him cheekily. In the old days, this would've ended with us in bed or me in Fort Drakon. I bet he could read me still and see that, despite everything, I still thought he was sexy as hell. Eventually his glower softened and he chuckled. "I trust you'll help Nate see reason?"

"Of course." No way anyone was going to Orlais. That was madness.

And I was right. Nathaniel didn't need me to needle him. He wasn't about to leave his pregnant wife on the orders of a "damn Orlesian", or so he said. Sometimes I wondered if Loghain wasn't his real father.

_A Few Weeks Later_

Divine Justinia, trying to end the templar-mage war peacefully, called for a conclave at Haven. I was invited, but with everything going on with this weird Calling, I had no idea how much longer I might have on this world. I did not wish to be separated from Danny. I also didn't want to take him into a potentially volatile situation. Anders desperately wanted to go so I sent him in my place.

I will never forget the sight of him turning and waving as he rode off to witness the historic summit between the templars and mages. He hoped that this might be the beginning of a reformation of the Chantry, the final dissolution of the Circles, and the ending of the templar order. I hoped he was right.

_~o~o~o~_

"My lady, His Majesty wishes you to see him immediately." A breathless palace courier placed a sheet of paper in my hands and I saw Alistair's scrawled message. The urgency was undeniable and the warning "talk to no one" made me uneasy. I practically ran after the courier, following him back to the palace. I found the king pacing back and forth, his hair sticking up messily as if he'd been running his hands through it.

"Alistair?" His mood was contagious. My skin prickled with the nervous energy he seemed to exude.

"Sit down, Lucy." He gestured to his throne.

"Oh no, you're not tricking me into that," I said, trying to make a joke to lighten the atmosphere.

"Sit." This time there was command in his voice. He'd gotten pretty good at that, but I wasn't used to hearing it directed at me.

I meekly walked to the throne and perched on the edge. "Okay. What is it?"

"I got word from Haven. The conclave was destroyed in a massive explosion. Everyone was killed. Every man, woman, child, The Divine, every noble, every servant, every mage and every templar!"

"Oh god!" It felt like I'd just been punched in the stomach. I wanted to vomit. I couldn't breathe. "Anders!" I felt the world spinning around me. I had sent Anders to his death. Tears sprung to my eyes and flowed down my face. "No, Alistair. It isn't true. It can't be."

He looked at me sternly, holding his hand up. "All but for Anders, Lucy. Can you explain this to me?"

_All but for Anders? _It echoed in my head. My emotions whiplashed from one end of the spectrum to the other end. He wasn't dead! He survived. I sprung to my feet and hugged Alistair. "He's alive then?" I felt guilt for feeling so happy. So many people had died.

He pried me loose and looked at me sternly. "He is. But many suspect he might be responsible. Tell me, Lucy, is there any chance?"

I shook my head. "Never. He was no fan of templars or the Circles, but he would never do anything like that. Never slaughter innocents needlessly. You've seen him in the clinic healing people, even templars. He is no mass murderer!"

Alistair drew a deep breath and nodded. "I know. I just needed to hear it from you." He pointed at the throne again. "Sit down. There's more."

"Oh god," I whispered, but obeyed.

"People are calling him the Herald of Andraste and an organization of Justinia's people, including Leliana, have formed around him. It seems they call themselves the Inquisition."

I was glad I was seated as the world spun again. "Oh god. No." The images that flashed through my head weren't pretty: medieval torture devices, witch burnings, comfy chairs, soft pillows… It was a jumbled hash of history and Monty Python.

"He's in Haven still. They've organized there. I suppose you'll want to join him?" Alistair said.

I nodded slowly. He would need us.

_~o~o~o~_

When our wagon finally pulled into the village of Haven so many memories returned. Over there was the little store where we'd bought the moldy sausage and found a dead Redcliffe knight. Oh yes, Zevran's Antivan leather boots were from there too. He still had them, though they were too old and decrepit to actually wear. He kept them for sentimental reasons. As we passed through the village he squeezed my hand and we relived our trek to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Danny listened to us discussing those memories and peppered us with questions.

Finally we arrived at the far end of the village. The Chanty… oh Maker, I'd nearly been beaten there by an old mage-priest. My nose throbbed with the memory. I'd have to see if the tunnels to the temple still remained. Was the guardian was still there with all his tests?

The village was much the same, although it had grown since the Blight, and now all the cultists had fled, or been killed by the Chantry. It bustled with life and seemed to welcome us. Our first visit here, we weren't nearly so warmly received.

I saw the doors to the Chantry swing open and Anders dashed out, a huge smile on his face. Danny yelped with joy and jumped out of the wagon before it had even stopped moving. Zevran and I followed a second later and then we were in his arms. I felt an odd tingling sensation has his hand caressed my face. It was hard to miss the faint green glow from the symbol on his hand. It tickled, and warmed me, much like lyrium did.

"Welcome to the Inquisition," he whispered to me. "I trust you'll help me out with that big glowing crack in the sky?"

"Of course, my darling," I said. "Of course."

The four of us were restrained in our affection with so many reverential gazes trained on Anders. A few onlookers were more diffident, but I could see they looked confused to see such affection from the Hero of Ferelden. Perhaps my presence would help change the hearts of the suspicious.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of the Inquisition," Anders said.

I shook my head at hearing the unfortunate name of the organization, but took his oddly marked hand as he led me into the Chantry. My life, our lives, had taken yet another strange twist.

I think it is safe to say that nobody had expected the Ferelden Inquisition.

_**The End**_

_**Notes: **T__his ends the Lucy saga. The rest I will leave to your imagination. Anders is the Inquisitor. No Morrigan, but I can imagine Danny playing in the garden of Skyhold. _

_If you have any requests for one-shots, toss 'em at me. I can't promise anything, but if it catches my fancy I may do it. I potentially have one or two coming. Perhaps. _

_I have begun to work on an original story. It is a very tentative start, so who knows if I will finish it or not. But I woke up with an idea one morning and I have been nurturing it. Unlike my fanfics, I'm not pantsing it. _

_Thanks for all the reviews, my dears! And thank you for reading this work for all the years (can you believe it?) that I have been writing it. Now… pardon me while I go run through a field of daisies and scream and shout, "I'm done! I'm done! I'm free at last!"_

_My special thanks to Zevgirl and Biff McLaughlin for their encouragement, suggestions, and beta-reading!_

_*cues up Etta James singing "At Last"*_


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